


When You Sleep

by SeriousMoonlight



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Canonical Character Death, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriousMoonlight/pseuds/SeriousMoonlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being asked to save the world is hard enough - being asked to save the world when you're disabled and have never had a typically functioning brain is another thing entirely. Estraven Lavellan is panicky, unsure, and honestly just wants to go home. Cole gives her a reason to stay. </p><p>[An autistic Inquisitor finds love and support with a kindred spirit.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first multi-chapter fic I've written on my own, so I'm really excited about it! Cole has been a favorite character of mine since I read Asunder - I'm autistic and seeing a character in a game series I love who is also developmentally disabled, and for that character to be as well-written and wonderful as Cole is, meant more to me than words can really describe. 
> 
> So here's some Cole/Inquisitor romance for you! No angst, just two autistic people supporting one another, falling in love, and saving the world. Future chapters won't stick so closely to the game - where's the fun in re-reading the same stuff you've already played? Anyway, please enjoy, and thanks so much for reading!

Wiping her sweating, trembling palms on her coat, Estraven Lavellan thought to herself for what must have been the millionth time that day, _"I'm not cut out for this."_

The young elf's stomach flipped and twisted violently into sharp, aching knots as her blue eyes focused on the towering silhouette of Therinfal Redoubt in the distance, stark stone against the overcast sky. A throng of Orlesian nobility was gathered outside the gates, low murmurs of dissent rippling through the crowd. The shuddering breath that slipped through Estraven's mouth upon seeing them was much louder than she expected.

"You okay, boss?" Iron Bull's voice was gentle and grounding, and Estraven looked up at him with the least-convincing smile on her face that either of them had ever seen.

"Right as rain," she said in an equally unconvincing cheery tone, tucking a strand of drizzle-soaked black hair behind a pointed ear. "Let's get this over with so we can all close the Breach and go home, yeah?"

The masked man who approached her introduced himself as Lord Esmeral Abernache, Josephine's contact, and Estraven really wanted to be nice to him, because Josephine was nice to her, and then he jokingly compared the meeting to the second Exalted March in front of two elves and, well, that was about ten to fifteen steps past where her kindness extended. Teeth clenching tightly together, she followed the noble through the gates and into the fortress, where nervous-looking templars stood in groups observing, armor glistening from the light rainfall. Two elf apostates and a hulking Qunari couldn't have been common sights for them. At least Cassandra was there so _someone_ could be presentable.

Agreeing to ask the Templar Order for help as an apostate hadn't been an easy decision, nor was Estraven convinced it was a wise one. But if it came down to them or _Tevinter?_ She'd take her chances with the templars. Besides - it was the option Cassandra seemed to favor, and as far as she was concerned, Cassandra was the one who should have been in charge anyway. 

Sensing her apprehension, the Seeker offered Estraven a gentle, reassuring smile. "It will be fine," she said, and the group walked toward the gates.

### 

Barely twenty minutes later, things were absolutely and incredibly _not fine_ on a scale the elf had never seen before. Abernache was dead on the floor, which wouldn't have been such a huge problem if not for the fact that all throughout the fortress, templars were murdering each other. Staff in hand, Estraven tried to calm her breathing even as her head and heart were pounding. Her eyes lingered on the unconscious Knight-Captain who'd attacked them all, on the sickly veins glowing under his sallow skin. Her hands shook.

Solas's hand on her shoulder made her nearly jump out of her skin as her eyes snapped up to look at him. "We have to get to the main hall," he said, in a tone indicating he'd been repeating himself. She could only nod back, and followed Barris into the corridor, dashing after him and the rest of the uninfected templars.

It was a little too late to say "I knew this was a bad idea," but it didn't stop her thoughts from repeating it anyway.

Screams and the cacophony of metal clashing against metal filled the air along with the smell of blood and the sharp, unmistakable tang of lyrium. "Is this the same kind of lyrium we saw at the temple in Haven?" she asked.

"It certainly looks like it," Cassandra said, her brows furrowed. "Varric advised us not to touch it. Be careful, all of you."

"The main hall is this way. We'll regroup and find out what's going on there," Barris said, and began moving down the hall. Thank the Creators _someone_ had a plan. The group followed him, fighting their way through swathes of red templars, and Estraven kept trying to stay calm as she and Solas cast spells in the back line together.

Focus on the barriers. Focus on making the pieces come together. Block out everything else. Only the magic.

And then there was a voice, speaking like it was directly next to her.

"The Herald of Andraste, it's time we became better acquainted."

Estraven's heart felt like it was about to explode out of her chest. "Please tell me someone else heard that voice," she whispered, eyes shut tight in annoyance, because -

"What voice?"

\- because no one else was going to have heard it. Of course. The nausea that had made itself at home in her gut since the morning was becoming almost unbearable. She wiped a thin sheen of clammy sweat off of her forehead with the back of a hand. "Creators. Nothing. Let's keep going."

And they did, and the closer they got to the main hall the more Estraven felt like she was going to vomit, the more she wanted to turn and run and hide and cry and let Cassandra and Solas and Bull handle this because she didn't know what she was doing, she wanted no part of this, and because, for over the millionth time, she was not cut out for this.

The Lord Seeker's voice, too calm and even-toned for the situation to mean anything good, called out to her. He was blocking the entrance to the main hall. She looked up at him from the bottom of the staircase and gripped her staff so hard her hands hurt. Swallowing all the common sense that screamed at her to run away, Estraven forced herself to walk up the steps and _towards_ the person who was probably going to murder her as soon as she was in sword range.

"Lord Seeker, what is the meaning of th-" Cassandra began, but everything was cut off as he moved fast, too fast, and grabbed the elf before she could even scream.

### 

_Where am I?_

_...fuck, probably dead, right?_

Estraven blinked rapidly, trying her best to clear the thick haze in her head. It was dark. And... green. And moving felt like walking through water. But this wasn't the Fade - it didn't feel right. So where was it? There were bodies that had once been elves around her, on their knees, flames perpetually flickering against already-charred skin. A torch in the distance.

Willing her too-heavy legs to move, she stepped forward. Someone coming closer -

"Solas?" she asked in disbelief, but even as the word left her mouth, her heart sank.

There was something wrong with the smile on his face.

The thing that wasn't Solas stopped before her. "Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?" His voice was Solas's, had that same familiar and comforting lilt, with something more than Solas hiding behind it, squeezing between syllables.

She wished he wouldn't stand so close to her, wished he wouldn't smile at her in that slightly off, broken way, and especially wished he wouldn't look down at her with eyes that seemed almost... predatory.

"Fuck. You're a demon," Estraven grumbled as she backed away, pressing her fingertips to her temples. "Fuck. Why do you have to look like Solas?" It came out more plaintive, more pathetic than she wanted it to.

Not Solas laughed, and sounded far too much like Solas for her liking. "Everything tells me about you." It moved, and stepped behind - 

_"Keeper?!"_ The gasp wrenched itself out of her involuntarily and she stumbled forward before regaining her senses. This was a trap, all of it. None of it was real. But the Keeper hadn't been there moments before, she wasn't there, and the thing that looked like Solas was standing behind it with a blade drawn against her neck.

"So will this," the demon said, eyes still boring into her.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Estraven kept repeating it in her head, fingernails digging into the skin on her hands as she felt her breathing get shaky and her throat constrict. It wasn't real, and so she shouldn't beg it to stop. And yet.

"Please don't," she whimpered, hating how small and frightened her voice sounded.

But it did. It blinked at her, and then silently the thing in the body of her companion slit Keeper Lavellan's throat. Estraven bit back a noise as she watched her mother's body collapse to the ground, lingering momentarily before melting into a pool of inky, bubbling blackness.

_"Please don’t,"_ the demon echoed, backing away, and then Solas wasn't there, but her sister - her _sister_ \- was next to her, holding the same knife, toying with it with the same slender and delicate fingers she had.

"Nessa," she breathed shakily, and in spite of herself she felt tears pricking at her eyes. The other elf - no, it wasn't an elf, it wasn't really her - looked so much like Estraven, the same dark skin and freckles and bright, curious eyes. It wore her sister's lopsided, cocky smirk like an ill-fitting suit. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to kick and scream and get violent with this monster for stealing her little sister's face to torment her.

But it was hard to be angry when she was so damn scared.

The demon's shiny white teeth flashed at her in something vaguely resembling a smile. "Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker!" It laughed, still playing with the knife in its hands. "When we're done here, the Elder One will kill you, and then I'm going to _be_ you. Do you know all the things the Inquisition could do with a _competent_ leader? I can show you!" With each step it came closer. Too close. The last time Estraven had been this close to her sister was when they exchanged a brief goodbye hug as she prepared to go to the conclave, thinking they'd see each other again soon.

A real leader, Estraven would think to herself later, would have come up with a witty retort, or been full to bursting with righteous fury. Instead, she kept digging her nails into the skin on the back of her hands and trying to blink back tears. Instead, she cried.

"Stop," she whispered.

Nessa was gone, and when Estraven slowly turned to look, she was face to face with her mother again. Her nails dug in harder.

"What do you want from me?"

The thing that was not Keeper Lavellan stared at her. "I am Envy, and I will know you." The knife was there, again, in its hand. "Tell me, _da'len_." It moved and - a shadowy copy of Estraven, something not-quite formed, there in the corner of her eye. She looked. She really didn't want to look.

Her mother drove the knife into her shadow's back. "Tell me what you think." It collapsed to its knees, letting out a scream that sounded far too much like her own. Estraven closed her eyes. "Tell me what you feel." A noise from behind her. A familiar metal weight in her hand.

The knife fell to the ground, as did another shadowy version of her, blood spurting from its stomach as it looked up at her with glowing green eyes. She wasn't sure if she could breathe.

And then she was alone.

The air felt heavy. Estraven trembled as she ran her hands through her black hair, clenching fistfuls of it and biting her lip as tears rolled down her cheeks. This wasn't the time for a panic attack.

_I’m not cut out for this._

Slowly, air returned to her lungs and she wiped her face on the back of a sleeve. _Breathe in and out like Nessa taught you._ Find a way out.

With no other options before her, she walked.

The world shifted around her, slithering into new shapes and making her dizzy. A dungeon full of red, guards with swords drawn at her, Cassandra - the moment she'd woken up after the conclave explosion. Estraven looked at her memories, at the way, even then, she'd cried and begged Cassandra to let her go. Helpless and afraid. She kept moving.

A door opened into a room full of fire and blood. Corpses - more elves - piled in corners, jagged shards of red lyrium cracking through walls and floors. Estraven's pace increased to a run. "You claim to care about the people?" The Envy demon’s voice sounded as though it were speaking directly into her ears. "When I am you, the People will never forget what you do to them. Your name will become a curse worse than Fen'Harel."

No, no, no. Her hands clapped over her ears as she ran, unsure of where to turn, desperately searching for an exit. The sound of her ragged breathing and her blood drumming was too much, it was all too much. The clothes rubbing against her skin, hair brushing her forehead, tasting the air in her mouth, too much, not here, not now, calm down, you _can't_ do this now -

"You're hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?"

The new voice was soft and calm. There was none of the guttural harshness present in the Envy demon's voice - this was a gentle sound, with a Fereldan accent. Estraven was positive she'd never heard it before in her life.

"What are you?!" The demon’s voice was full of indignation as it spat out the words. "Get out! This is my place!"

Someone else was here - wherever "here" was.

She opened another door, holding her breath in anticipation of some new and exciting horrible vision. What greeted her instead was a bedroom that would have been perfectly normal if not for a set of a table and chairs on the ceiling, which, now that she was really looking at it, looked more like a floor. Tentatively, she crept inside, a hand preemptively gripping the staff on her back.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her and the scream that flew out of her mouth would have been terribly embarrassing if she wasn't trapped in a hellish dreamscape with no one else in sight. Estraven took a deep breath as she pressed a hand against her chest as if she could physically stop her frantically thumping heart. There was no time to stop and feel sorry for herself, but as she turned to leave, a small voice came from somewhere behind her.

"Wait."

She'd _really_ had enough of noises coming from behind her today.

She turned back, eyes narrowed. No one there. "He...llo?"

"Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help." A small pause. "You. Not Envy." The soothing Fereldan voice from before. As much as Estraven looked around, she still couldn't find the owner, until her head tilted upwards.

Ah.

The figure on the ceiling didn't seem in the least bit bothered by his predicament, staring at her from beneath - or was it technically from above in this case? - the brim of an almost comically large hat. His clothes were unassuming, simple, rough. A shirt that appeared to be made up of more patches than the original fabric. Gloves that left his fingers exposed. Brown leather breeches. But really, Estraven couldn't get past the hat.

"Um," she said.

"I've been watching. I'm Cole. We're inside you. Or, I am." (If she hadn't been on the verge of a panic attack, Estraven was certain she would have choked.) "You're always inside you."

She stared.

Her dumbfounded silence didn't seem to bother him. "It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing. But I'm here, hearing, helping. I hope." For the first time that day, the small smile on Estraven's face was genuine.

"Envy hurt you, _is_ hurting you. I tried to help. Then I was here, in the hearing. It's -" the man called Cole paused, wringing his hands. "It's not usually like this."

"So we're... in my head?" she asked. "How is this even possible? And you... you're real? Not a figment of my imagination?"

"Yes," he said, and somehow in the span of time during Estraven blinking he'd managed to go from standing on the ceiling to sitting on the wooden headboard of the bed, which did nothing to help the case for him not being a figment of her imagination.

"You're frozen. Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here." Cole spoke like it was the simplest thing in the world. He was closer to her now, and the elf could actually get a good look at him. His eyes were big and blue, looking like he'd never gotten enough sleep in his life. The hair peeking out from under the hat (which was so wide it extended past his shoulders, she realized now) was an ashy dark blonde, threatening to hang in front of his eyes but not quite making it.

Estraven's heartbeat was finally starting to return to a rhythm resembling normal. Her curiosity slowly reared its head again. "Are you a spirit?" she asked, eyes practically glittering as she approached him.

"Does it bother you?" Cole asked, tilting his head slightly. Estraven shook her head.

"No, no! I'm... I'm just glad you're here. That anyone's here, really." She smiled. "Thank you... Cole. For wanting to help." There was a strong possibility that the thing in front of her was another demon trying to lead her astray, or maybe the Envy demon was displaying some terrifyingly impressive levels of reverse psychology, but even still - right now, he was all she had. Putting her trust in someone who had mysteriously shown up in her mind shouldn't have felt as easy as it did. "So how do we get out?"

"It's your head. I hoped _you'd_ know how to stop it."

Estraven's eye twitched.

"I don't."

Cole stood up as Estraven internally screamed at the sight of shoes on the pristine bedsheets, walking toward her. "All of this is Envy: people, places, power. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more." Delicately, he hopped off onto the ground beside her. He was tall and gangly. Most humans were taller than her, sure, but she usually didn't have to crane her neck quite so hard to look up at them. "Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, more and more, and Envy breaks down, you break out."

She scratched the back of her neck. "So... if we keep, ah, moving in my... head, we'll tire it out? And we can escape?"

"Maybe. I hope it helps. It's more than sitting here waiting to lose your face."

"...true."

He waved a hand. "This way." And off they went into the corridor, standing before a wall of burning flame. Cole put a hand to his chin.

"Ideas are loud here. Make them louder." He looked at her. "Think of water."

"Think of water?" she repeated.

"Yes." Like it was the most sensible thing in the world. Estraven closed her eyes.

For a while Clan Lavellan had made a home next to a lake, surrounded by purple flowers and swaying trees. When it was too hot to bear she and Nessa would splash each other, laughing, the cold water stinging against the heat of -

There was a noise like rain crashing down a split second before Estraven felt herself get drenched, and as her eyes snapped open the flames went out. Cole was gone, the Envy demon was screaming "that _thing_ can't help you!" and a breathless, disbelieving laugh was the only sound she could make as the rain kept pouring down.

### 

Keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Tire it out.

She didn't know where Cole had gone, but every once in a while she could hear his voice as she ran. "Keep going up," he urged, and her panic continued to subside every time he spoke. "None of this is real unless you let it be." She could breathe.

There. A stone staircase - the one the Envy demon wearing the Lord Seeker's face had been waiting for her at the top of. With every step she took, Estraven felt... lighter. Keep going up.

It was hard to keep track of how many things had snuck up behind her that day. Envy, in a shadowy mockery of her own body, slammed her against the doors to the main hall, grabbing her by the throat. Her hands clawed at its arms as she gasped for air. "Unfair!" it screeched, piercing green eyes burning with rage. "That thing kept you whole, kept you from giving me your shape!" Her head spun. "We'll start again. More pain this time. The Elder One still comes." The edges of her vision were blurring, tears stinging her eyes, panic setting in again, _please, no, I was almost out!_

"It's frightened of you," Cole's voice was almost a whisper. The demon's grip loosened for a second.

"Get out of-"

Estraven kicked off the door behind her, catching Envy off-guard and collapsing on top of it, slamming it into the stone floor before everything went white.

### 

And she was back, and the demon was crunching through a wooden door, which was an auspicious start.

She'd never seen a demon of Envy before, and Estraven hoped this was the last time. Its spindly body bent in impossible ways, letting out a shrill scream before flying past several very confused templars and into the main hall.

"The Lord Seeker!" Barris gasped, mouth agape.

"An Envy demon," the elf quietly corrected, eyes fixed on the magical barriers the demon had firmly wedged itself behind. Suddenly remembering, Estraven looked around, seeing no sign of Cole anywhere. Cassandra looked at her inquisitively. "Um... did anyone else see a young man with me?" she asked, and was rewarded with blank stares. "Pale. Strangely dressed. Wearing a hat about three feet wide. He was with me?"

Barris shook his head. "The Lord Seeker was alone with you when you revealed his true nature." Estraven frowned. As much as she wanted to drop everything and look for him, if not for her own peace of mind, there was a trapped demon and a fortress full of templars hopped up on red lyrium to deal with. Finding Cole would have to wait.

She really hoped he wasn't a figment of her imagination after all. Thanking herself would be uncomfortable.

### 

Staring down a powerful demon, still half-convinced that she was finally completely fucking losing it, Estraven thought, again, _I'm not cut out for this_. Hopefully Cassandra would at least deliver any body parts of hers that were left after the fight to Clan Lavellan. Some gold would be nice, too. Her staff thrummed with magic, the familiar tingle sweeping across her skin.

"Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive." Her head practically whipped around in a perfect half-circle upon hearing Cole’s voice again. He was _there!_ He stood next to her, a dagger in each hand, eyes full of anger as he looked at the demon. "I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be, either."

Estraven gaped so hard that she missed the demon swinging at her until she was slamming into the ground, stars bursting behind her eyes. Before she knew it, Cole was there, taking her hand in his and pulling her onto her feet as Cassandra and Iron Bull charged, weapons drawn. He was real. "I'll protect you," she promised, casting a magical barrier over both of them.

"I'm here to help," was all he said before he blinked into thin air, darting to join the others in the fight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estraven is convinced the strange man who saved her at Therinfal was all in her head, until he poofs into existence on top of the war table in Haven.

Estraven had always known her mind wasn't exactly... normal, to put it politely. Even so, hallucinating young men with strange taste in headgear saving her from demons was far and above the garden-variety Brain Weirdness she'd grown accustomed to. She'd largely kept quiet as the group headed back to Haven from Therinfal Redoubt, only once breaking the silence somewhere in the Frostback Mountains to ask, "Did _none_ of you really see the human with the big hat?" Cassandra frowned.

"Perhaps you are not feeling well. Could the Envy demon have done something to you?" the Seeker asked, her breath hanging like clouds in the air. Estraven rubbed her forehead, tracing the blue lines of her vallaslin with her fingertips - a reflexive nervous habit.

"I don't know. He felt so real. But none of you saw him during the fight, even though I swear he was there, and I didn't see him after. I don't know." Standing there with Solas, Cassandra, and Iron Bull looking at her with concerned expressions, she wanted to melt into the snow-covered ground. "Sorry. I'm making you worry. I probably just need to rest once we get back to Haven, if that's alright." It was hard to look any of them in the eyes.

Bull's big hand lightly clapped her on the shoulder, which was still enough to nearly make her lose her balance. "Are you kidding? You had a demon inside your mind and you _headbutted_ it out of you. You've earned the right to sleep for a whole damn week if you want." The elf couldn't help but smile timidly, a faint heat rising to her cheeks.

"Thanks. Sorry. We can all keep moving and stop, um, giving me a pep talk in the mountains."

"I wouldn't be quite so eager to return too quickly," Solas said, even as he continued walking. "I imagine Commander Cullen is going to have some words for you about your decision to disband the Templar Order."

Estraven put her face in her hands and groaned.

### 

Commander Cullen did indeed have words for her about her decision to disband the Templar Order, none of which she wanted to hear. Practically wilting under his angry stare, she felt the familiar sensation of her throat tightening and her eyes stinging. _Great. Wonderful. Start crying in front of the shems! Fantastic leadership skills, Estraven!_

She wasn't expecting Cassandra and Leliana to leap to her defense, and thankfully the surprise staved off the imminent tears. Cassandra _really_ should have been the one in charge. Staring at the floor and wringing her hands, Estraven was at least trying to find consolation in the fact that they were one step closer to closing the Breach when the young man from Therinfal materialized out of thin air on top of the war table.

"Maker!" Cullen gasped as he and Cassandra both instantly drew the blades at their sides.

"Wait wait _WAIT_ ," Estraven shouted, flailing her arms desperately, "put your swords down!" Turning to look at the man crouching on the table, her expression shifted to an absolutely beaming smile. "Cole!"

Cole looked at her and blinked, seemingly unperturbed by the swords drawn on him. "I came with you to help. I would have told you before, but you were busy," he said, in a tone of voice one would use for apologizing for being a few minutes late to a tea party.

"It's fine, it's fine!" she said excitedly. Her eyes flicked from Cassandra to Cullen, who still had their weapons trained on him as she held her hands out. "Um, I think you just scared us a little bit. You did sort of... appear out of thin air." He tilted his head.

"I wasn't air, I was here," he said, like that was supposed to explain everything. "You didn't see me. Most people don't until I let them." Awkwardly, he shuffled to the edge of the war table and hopped off to stand in front of Estraven, even as Cassandra took a step to try to move between them. "You help people. You made them safe when they would have died. I want to do that. I can help."

He didn't look her in the eye while he spoke. Maybe for a half a second at a time before breaking their gaze. He wrung his hands the way she did. Couldn't keep still. Like her.

"I want to help. I can be hard to see. I can kill things that would hurt people. I won’t get in the way." Cole's voice sounded almost pleading.

Estraven gently reached out to touch Cassandra's arm, slowly pushing it down. "Cole saved my life at Therinfal Redoubt, Cassandra. This is the one I was telling you all about! Envy would be wearing my face right now if it wasn't for him," she said. Eyes still wary, the Seeker sheathed her sword again, and Cullen took it as a sign to do the same. "I trust him." She paused. "He wants to help."

"Yes, I gathered as much," the Seeker said cautiously. Cassandra looked at Estraven with an expression that was firm, but not unkind. "I hope you know what you're doing."

_Ha ha! I **never** know what I'm doing!_

Estraven decided it was best not to comment, and focused her attention back to Cole, who was standing there, seemingly patiently awaiting an answer. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Cole," she said warmly. People shook hands to solidify partnerships, right? That was a Fun, Normal Human Thing? She held hers out to him. Cole looked at it, blinking, and...

...held it.

“ **UM** ,” Estraven said.

Cole's expression was inscrutable. Somehow _she_ felt like the one being unreasonable, even as her cheeks grew hot with the very acute awareness that the advisors were staring at them. Unsure of how to respond, she settled for giving his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

"Was that not right?" Cole asked, head tilting again. The fear of making mistakes in his voice was so familiar that it made her chest tighten.

"You're not the first person to jump right to holding hands after meeting me, so don't worry about it too much." Estraven opened the door of the war room and motioned for him to follow her. "Speaking of, let's go introduce you to Solas. He's going to be very, _very_ excited to meet you."

### 

The rest of the day was a blur - there had been introductions to make, and people to be scolded by (namely Vivienne and Sera), and then the templars from Therinfal arrived and before Estraven knew it three days had passed before she'd gotten to speak to Cole again. He'd been spending a lot of time with Solas, which made her happy because the crotchety elf didn't seem like he opened up to anyone easily. She'd also passed the strange man talking with Varric quite a few times, which also made her happy because it was impossible not to have a good time around the dwarf.

Cole and Solas were sitting in a corner of the tavern and talking together (which she knew because Sera was agitatedly pacing around the outside of the building, seemingly refusing to go inside whenever Cole was present), and Solas nodded politely upon seeing Estraven approach.

"Hello, Solas! Can I borrow your new best friend for a little while?"

Solas smiled lightly. "Certainly, provided he doesn't have a problem with it." Both of the elves looked at Cole expectantly.

There was a moment of silence as he stared back at them, before his eyes widened a bit. "Oh - do you mean me?" he asked, looking slightly bewildered.

"Indeed I do. Would you mind taking a walk with me for a bit? We haven't gotten a chance to talk since you arrived the other day," Estraven explained, unsure of where the sudden influx of butterflies in her stomach had come from.

Cole stood up from the table. "You don't have to be nervous. I'll come with you," he said, and as Solas raised an eyebrow at her Estraven bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from squeaking with embarrassment.

Of course, she hadn't really thought through where to walk, exactly, but she had to pretend she did, so she set off walking towards the woods at the edge of the small village, hoping it looked like a deliberate choice.

"So, first of all," Estraven said, idly fidgeting with her hands as they walked, "I wanted to thank you for saving me back at Therinfal. It was..." She shuddered and exhaled. "It was really scary. Terrifying, actually. I don't think I would have made it out of there without you encouraging me. So... thanks. For that." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I helped," was all he said at first, a quiet kind of surprise in his voice. "It's good to hear. I will try to do more for you, if I can."

"If you need anything, I'll do my best to help you too. You're on the team now, after all. And I do kind of owe you big time." The outer edge of the forest was in front of them, but Estraven kept walking further. There was a spot just a little ways in where she liked to be alone. Even though it was her spot, somehow it felt right to bring Cole there.

Their shoes crunched against the snow as they moved, one of her favorite sounds in the world. "You wish you weren't on the team," he said.

Estraven stopped and turned to look at him. "What?"

"Panic rising in your chest, the wind in your hair as you ran out of the chantry. Can't be here, can't be here, I'm not cut out for this." Cole paused. "You would have left for good if Varric hadn't seen you."

Unsure of what to say, she kept walking until the right words took shape in her head. Her spot in the woods was less of a spot and more a very big rock that happened to be comfortable to sit on, but at least it was quiet away from all the noise of camp. She brushed some snow off and took a seat, gesturing for Cole to do the same. He did, rhythmically swinging his left leg and tapping it against the stone.

"Yeah," was how Estraven finally broke the silence, her eyes fixed on the sky. "I want to go home. I hate it here. Honestly, I think Cassandra should be the one calling the shots. I'm not a good leader." It felt like a massive weight had just melted off her chest. "I miss my family."

"Nessa, with her too-loud laugh you love, inelegant, infectious."

She nodded, and they were quiet again for a time, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees around them.

"I like the quiet too," Cole said. "Sometimes there's so much it’s hard to think. Not just noise. Smells or feelings or sights, too. It can be overwhelming."

The elf sat up straighter. "You get that too? Like... like how sometimes you can't even focus on what people are saying to you because of how your shirt feels, or you don't hear someone calling your name because the - the taste of food is too... it's too loud?" She figured if anyone could understand that last one, it would be a mind-reading Fade spirit.

Cole nodded. "Yes." He frowned, leg still kicking at the boulder they sat on. "Sometimes I can’t talk if I'm touching velvet. Do you get that too?"

Estraven waved her arms and cringed, reflexively drawing her legs up to her chest. "Augh! I _hate_ velvet!" She laughed, more with the sheer relief of finally having her strange brain make sense to someone else than any sort of humor. "The blacksmith tried to put some in my armor the other day and I almost started crying in front of him, poor man."

There was a barely perceptible smile on Cole's lips, although the low brim of his hat made it nearly impossible to see anyway.

"I've never met anyone else who feels like that too," Estraven admitted. "I think... Well, I know my clan always knew there was something... wrong with me. They probably kept thinking I'd grow out of it." Tucking her chin into her knees, she wrapped her arms around her neatly folded legs. "I don't know how to explain it to other people when they ask. I think they always think I'm crazy. Maybe I am? Creators, you have no idea how good it feels to talk about this to someone else who understands." Her eyes closed and she let out a deep, contented sigh.

"Does it help?"

She smiled. "Absolutely."

"Will you stay?"

The question caught her off-guard and she cracked one blue eye open to look at him. "Huh?"

"Will you stay?" Cole repeated, and she noticed he'd stopped tapping his leg. "They would miss you. Solas especially, but the others, too. Varric thinks you'd be a good leader - he thinks the people who don't want to lead are the ones best suited to doing it." He didn't look at her, just stared back in the direction of camp. "You remind him of his friend Hawke. Same blue eyes. Same self-doubt."

Estraven chewed the inside of her cheeks as she plucked at stray threads on her leggings. A light snow had started to fall. For the first time in their conversation, the silence felt heavy. "I'll stay," she said quietly.

Cole smiled, and it felt like she'd been struck by lightning. "Good," he said, and there was a palpable relief in his voice that touched her more than words could. "I know it's a lot to bear. It must be very hard. I hope I can help."

She wasn't sure why she wanted to hold his hand again, but she didn't. "You already are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this so far! I'm going to try my hardest to publish at least one chapter a week. I hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estraven and Cole get some rest after a day of adventuring. The calm before the storm.

The knights who formerly made up the Templar Order had arrived at Haven and settled in, waiting for the mission to seal the Breach to begin. Cassandra and Solas had suggested to Estraven that she get more practice closing smaller rifts before attempting something so huge. This sounded like a good idea to her because, as much as she wanted this all to be done with and for everyone to just go home, she wasn't exactly eager to waltz up to the demon-filled hole in the sky while waving her glowing hand around. It was good to build up to things, after all.

The _reality_ of this plan meant that on the way to seal a rift in the Hinterlands, Estraven and Cole had gotten distracted by a young man begging for help, and as a result the party had chased a bright orange ram around the wilderness for three hours.

Estraven's smile was frozen awkwardly on her mouth as she tried to ignore her dark hair sticking to the sweat on her face. "Really. It's fine. No trouble. Glad to help," she wheezed to the grateful human, quickly nudging Iron Bull in the side so he would stop glaring daggers at the ram in the man's back yard. "Goodness. Is the sun setting? It is! Time flies when you're... looking for rams. We have to go now!" And she turned on her heel and set off walking on wobbly legs toward the nearest Inquisition camp.

"Didn't even give us a reward for all the trouble," Bull grumbled as he fell in step beside her, the orange light of the sun casting a warm glow over his face. "Still think we shoulda just made it into stew or something."

"It was good to do that." Cole's voice was firm from behind them both. "He and his family are happier now, because of us. Lord Woolsley is too."

It was strangely hard to argue with that.

"It will be getting dark shortly. Shall we set up camp for the night and resume closing rifts tomorrow?" Solas asked. "Unless you feel chasing the wildlife has prepared your mark sufficiently." His tone was teasing, but not cruel. Estraven snorted.

"I'll pass on fighting demons in the dark, thanks. C'mon, there's an Inquisition camp just up ahead." The rest of the walk was quiet except for the sound of dirt and grass underfoot, and insects chirping in the rapidly encroaching darkness. The scent of a fire started by Inquisition scouts lingered in Estraven's nose, mingling with the flowers and the wild air until she suddenly realized one of the scouts had been trying to get her attention.

He was staring at her, a slightly perplexed look on his face. "...Herald?"

She bristled at the title. "N-- Sorry. Yes?"

"We had to give one of the tents we had to some wounded refugees a little ways south. There aren't enough for everyone. Apologies, ma'am." He bowed. "We'll keep watch so you and your group can rest."

"Oh. Okay," she said. Silence. He seemed to still be waiting for something. "Um, thanks." He made no move to leave. She shifted uncomfortably. "C-Carry on?" she said tentatively.

He saluted, bowed again, and went to go tend to the fire. Estraven's shoulders sagged with relief. Iron Bull frowned as he looked at the tents before crossing his arms. "Boss, I'm barely gonna fit in one of those things alone, much less with any of you in there with me. I need one all to myself." A smirk crossed his lips as he winked at her (Estraven was pretty sure it was a wink, even though with the eye patch she couldn't be 100% sure). "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Why would I be..." Estraven started, and then paused.

"He's flirting with you," Cole chimed in helpfully.

"Thanks, kid. Anyway, I'm turning in for the night. Sleep well," Bull laughed, dropping his weapon at the entrance of his tent before attempting to maneuver him and his giant horns inside the small canvas structure as the other three watched. 

Solas shrugged his backpack off his shoulders. "I can sleep quite comfortably anywhere. Perhaps it would be more appropriate for Cole and I to share a tent so you can have one to yourself," he suggested. There was a small knot in Estraven's stomach even as she nodded.

"Alright! Goodnight, you two!" she said, propping her staff outside her tent and removing her boots before flopping onto the bedroll inside. She allowed herself a few moments to breathe, staring at the cloth ceiling of the tent hanging above her. The fire outside kept things warmer than they would have been without it, but she still wanted to get under the blankets.

Shimmying out of her robe and leathers and folding them neatly by the tent entrance, Estraven buried herself under a mass of blankets, pulling them up under her chin. It was impossible for her to sleep with so much clothing on. The textures against her skin and the sound of other fabric rubbing against the blankets was maddening. Luckily, they had yet to be ambushed while camping, and she chose to very firmly remain in denial about the possibility of it ever happening. The elf ran her scarred fingers over the fur blankets, closing her eyes and sighing.

She hated sleeping alone.

It wasn't uncommon for Tevinter slavers to steal across the Fereldan border, attempting to capture elves from Dalish clans to sell back home. Estraven had been unlucky. They'd found her while she was alone, and one young elf mage was no match for a group of experienced slavers. Luck had come back when her clan noticed she was missing and dispatched a search party, tracking her down and freeing her from the back of the Tevinter wagon after three days.

Truthfully, she didn't remember a lot about those three days, and even more truthfully, she had no desire to. But she remembered the loneliness. Seconds crawling by like wounded animals as manacles bit into her wrists. Staring at the ceiling of the wagon instead of sleeping, because it was all she could do. She remembered the loneliness far too well.

She shuddered and wrapped the blankets tighter around her, shaking her head as if it would dislodge the unpleasant memories from her mind. _Don't start spiraling again. Just go to sleep._

The tent flap rustled and her eyes snapped open. Cole's head was peeking in. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

"You don't like sleeping alone," he said quietly. She nodded.

More rustling. Cole awkwardly kicked his shoes off and crawled into the tent, sitting on top of the bedroll next to her. Estraven continued to stare. "It's alright," he said. She believed him.

His tired eyes didn't quite glow in the dark, but they were shining, trying to catch any bit of light and hold onto it desperately. It was the first time she'd seen him without his hat, and the fact that his pale blond hair remained flattened down against his head amused her to no end. "Here, let me make room for you," she said, trying to wiggle closer to the side of the tent. Cole laid down next to her but made no motion to get under any blankets, for which she was kind of grateful, because she was in her smallclothes, but he probably already knew that because he could read minds, right? Confusing.

"Are you going to be comfortable sleeping like that?" Estraven asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I don't sleep."

"Oh."

There was a long moment of silence between them. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized they were both still staring at each other and quickly averted her gaze. "Is looking people in the eye for too long hard for you too?" she asked.

"Yes. It's, it's - it's frightening. I feel like I want to run away, want to make them forget me just so they'll stop looking inside me, through me. Sometimes it makes my chest hurt. It's like that for you, too," Cole said, "your mother never thought you were listening, but you were. When she told you to look her in the eyes, you couldn't listen anymore. Too much to pay attention to in the lines around her eyes."

He was right, of course. Estraven expected someone reading her mind to be terrifying, but for some reason Cole seeing everything there was to see about her made her feel... comfortable. Like there was nothing to hide. No reason to pretend to be normal. It was nice.

"I'm glad we found each other," she said with a happy sigh, closing her eyes as she snuggled her face against her pillow.

"Why don't Solas or Sera have marks on their faces like you do?" he asked.

"Ah... they weren't raised among the Dalish." She reached a hand up to touch the blue lines of her vallaslin. "It's sacred for our people. Like a rite of passage. You earn it when the Keeper feels you're ready."

"It took you three tries to get yours without crying."

"Let's see _you_ do better when someone's poking needles into your face. ...Sorry, that was a joke." Sleep was slowly drifting over her like a warm ray of sunlight. "Mine are for Falon'Din. He guides all creatures beyond the Veil when they die."

"Does Falon'Din guide spirits?"

Estraven's eyes half-opened. Cole was still staring at the ceiling, but the look in his eyes was unexpectedly lonely. Almost on instinct, she moved a hand to rest gently on his shoulder. She wanted to say something profound and kind, to find the right combination of words to make sure he would never get that look in his eyes again. What came out was a sleepy-sounding, "Probably?"

They were silent, and she began to float towards sleep once more. He was warm under her hand, his presence comforting and gentle. Her thoughts drifted. It would be nice to put her head in the spot where his neck met his shoulder, to fit right up against his side with one of his arms around her. _Does Cole have a heartbeat? I mean, I've seen him bleed before, so he has to, I think..._

She'd been asleep for a minute at most. "Are you sleeping well," Cole stage whispered.

" _Cole._ "

"Sorry."

She tried to stop smiling, but found it very difficult. A few more minutes passed, and she found herself on the verge of sleep again.

"Estraven, what's cuddling?"

Estraven squeezed her eyes shut very tightly and pretended to snore.

"...you're not asleep."

She pulled the blankets up over her head and willed a rift to open up on top of her. None did. "Ask me in the morning, you weird little shem."

"You're not going to tell me in the morning."

" _Goodnight, Cole._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sound like a broken record but thank you so much for continuing to read this fic! Unfortunately I won't be able to update next week as I'll be out of town until around the 10th with no access to my computer. Sorry! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven is gone and Estraven does not like the snow anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the long break and the short chapter - I'll try to post another, longer one soon to make up for it. Thank you so much for continuing to read this and thank you to everyone who has been leaving kudos and sweet comments, y'all are the best ;_;

Everything was gone, and Estraven no longer enjoyed the sound of boots crunching over snow.

Her whole body hurt, because getting thrown against a wooden trebuchet by an ancient Tevinter magister-turned-Darkspawn had a tendency to leave one with some aches and pains. And she was freezing, because getting stranded somewhere in the Frostback Mountains during a blizzard would make anyone a little chilly. And probably slightly less importantly, she was really, really sad, because watching a research assistant who had been nothing but kind to you die before your eyes was a touch demoralizing.

All in all - not a very good day.

The small elf's teeth chattered uncontrollably as she forced her legs to move through the snow drifts as high as her thighs while the wind stung her face. Not that moving mattered much, seeing as how she had absolutely no idea where she was, or where she should even be walking to, considering Haven had just been completely wiped out and she had no home base to return to anymore.

The mustachioed Tevinter from Redcliffe had shown up on their doorstep, which was cause for alarm in and of itself, but an army of pissed-off, possibly brainwashed mages following suit meant everything was completely and thoroughly fucked.

In retrospect, it was pathetic. Estraven had tried to let Corypheus have the mark on her hand. In a fit of desperation and panic, she had screamed that she didn't want it and he could just have it if he would leave and stop, but things were never that easy, and that was when she'd been slammed into a trebuchet and had no choice but to start an avalanche.

_This probably,_ Estraven thought as she squinted into the cold, unwelcoming darkness, _wouldn't have happened if Cassandra was in charge._

(She was wrong, but she didn't know that.)

It would have been nice to lay down. She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking for - everything looked the same covered in snow and it was impossible to gauge any progress she'd made. Just making her legs move felt like it sucked all the strength out of her body and she had to pause, gasping and shuddering in the snow, to collect herself between each step.

Let her disappear in the mountains. Let some hapless adventurer find her body in the spring. For all anyone knew, she could die a hero, could have nobly sacrificed herself so the others could escape. It was possible that was the biggest contribution to the Inquisition she could make.

_Keep going up._

Estraven hadn't even realized her eyes had closed until they snapped open.

It should have been thoughts of her mother, her sister - Creators, _anyone_ from Clan Lavellan that made her start moving again. But it was the bizarre hat-wearing shemlen with the haunted blue eyes who had encouraged her to keep going up.

Cole had asked her to stay.

Estraven kept walking.

### 

  
Of course, even touching sentimentality can only go so far when you're bruised, suffering from hypothermia, and completely exhausted. Bodies have limits, and Estraven ran into hers right as she saw a small fire in the distance. She tumbled face-down into the snow, but not before she heard Cullen's voice shouting and footsteps approaching her.

"I'll stay," the elf whimpered as strong arms lifted her off the ground, "I'll stay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition moves to Skyhold, and after being named Inquisitor and the arrival of the Champion of Kirkwall, Estraven finds herself busier than ever. Somehow, she always finds time to visit the third floor of the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's in the fic's tags, but this chapter especially has some big character spoilers. If you haven't completed Inquisition at least once, I'd suggest you stop reading for now until you do!
> 
> This is the longest chapter yet e_e Please enjoy! Thank you for reading! <3

When the humans still left after the destruction of Haven got down on their knees to sing prayers to a god she didn't believe in, Estraven stayed, because she had promised. When Solas told her the artifact responsible for the destruction of the temple and the very probable end of the world was elven, she stayed. When Cassandra had asked her - an elf apostate - to become the leader of the Inquisition, incredibly, Estraven did not vault over the Skyhold ramparts in a fit of wide-eyed terror. She stayed.

Not that it was easy. But things were certainly exciting.

First of all, the Champion of Kirkwall had shown up. Rose Hawke did not look anything like what Estraven expected a (suspected) maleficar to be. The (suspected!) blood mage partially responsible for helping the Mage-Templar War come to a head looked like a fairy tale princess, with big blue eyes, long honey-blonde hair she tucked behind her ears as she spoke, and a smile so genuine and sincere it bordered on alarming.

She even had dimples. _Dimples!_ Blood mages weren't supposed to have dimples! (" _Suspected_ blood mages," Varric was quick to remind her.)

Second of all - Cassandra had _found out_ that the Champion of Kirkwall had shown up, and Estraven had been fairly certain she was going to watch Cassandra murder a dwarf before her very eyes. Somehow, Varric had escaped unmurdered, and Cassandra was slumped over in a chair, frustratedly burying her face in her hands. The elf's immediate first urge was to leave her alone, because there was a part of her that felt like Cassandra wouldn't want to be seen so distraught. But… something about her seemed so _sad_ , in a way Estraven had never seen before. Maybe it would be callous to leave.

So, once again, Estraven stayed.

"Um," she said very eloquently as she kneeled down next to the Seeker.

"I am sorry you had to see that, Inquisitor," Cassandra sighed, resting her chin on her hands. "I should have been smarter. I should have known better."

"Cassandra, even if you had found Hawke, I don't think… I don't think she would have been what you needed." She chose her words carefully, because Varric _probably_ hadn't mentioned the fact that Hawke was a maleficar in the story he told as he was being kidnapped and interrogated by the Chantry. But it had been impossible not to hear the rumors - even Estraven, isolated as she was in the forests of Ferelden, had caught wind that the mighty Champion of Kirkwall was a spell-slinging, terrifying blood mage.

With dimples.

Estraven continued. "You've heard the rumors about her. Even if they're not true, she supported the rebellion. I don't think she would have been receptive to the idea of helping the Chantry."

"I don't deserve to be here," Cassandra said, and her voice was so tired Estraven's eyes widened at the sound.

"I -- what? That's… Cassandra, you deserve to be here the most out of any of us!" she said, standing back upright. "I don't understand why _you're_ not the Inquisitor. You're brave and strong and smart, and I… I wish I could be more like you." She folded her arms. "Have you seen the rest of us? Two elf apostates, a possible demon, a one-eyed sexy Qunari… I think you and Vivienne might be the only ones with your act together. Maybe Blackwall too."

(Blackwall did not have his act together, but Estraven didn't know that.)

The Seeker let out a choked laugh and stood up from her chair. "Thank you, Inquisitor. It is appreciated." Cassandra smiled, an unfamiliar, tentative expression. "Please don't diminish your own accomplishments. I am not good at… pleasantries. Vivienne, Warden Blackwall, Cole, the… 'sexy Qunari'," she coughed into her fist, "I very much doubt they would have lended their support to our cause if I had been the one asking. You aren't what I expected, but I believe you were sent here for a reason, even if you do not." She gave Estraven a gentle, affirming pat on the shoulder before turning to leave the room.

Estraven was practically beaming when Cassandra turned around and said, "Oh, speaking of Vivienne - I believe she wanted to speak to you about Cole."

The smile vanished.

### 

Vivienne did not like Cole, or Solas, or Dorian, or Estraven, or almost anyone at all, it seemed. Power and poise radiated off her in waves, and Estraven generally tried her hardest to steer clear of the noble Knight-Enchanter. They'd had a promising introduction - Vivienne turned a man who insulted the Inquisitor about her ears into an ice statue, which was a wonderful conversation starter - but it soon became clear that they disagreed on almost everything they spoke about. Vivienne had a way of speaking that made everything sound intelligent and correct, even if Estraven instinctually knew it was wrong, but it made her so flustered that she couldn't coherently argue back.

It reminded her too much of how some members of Clan Lavellan spoke to her. A few well-chosen, scathing words could ruin her day, so she bit her tongue and tried to avoid being seen.

This didn't help when she was directly summoned, and so Estraven stood on the third floor where Vivienne spent most of her time. She cleared her throat nervously, attempting to get the First Enchanter's attention.

"You wanted to speak to me?" she asked, even though she felt like there was no breath in her lungs. Vivienne smiled, one that was impossible to read.

"Don't look so frightened, dear, I'm not going to bite you."

Estraven wasn't sure.

With a wave of her hand, Vivienne motioned for her to follow outside onto the small balcony outside her living quarters. Estraven complied. For a few moments, the only sounds between them were the breeze whispering through the courtyard trees, along with the muffled, faraway chatter of Skyhold denizens beneath them. _Maybe this won't be so bad._

"I wanted to speak to you about the pet demon you seem to have adopted, dear."

Estraven's hands gripped the stone railing in front of her as her throat tightened.

_"What?"_

"The demon, Inquisitor. You've been taking it with you everywhere, but it isn't a puppy you can control. It's dangerous. But I'm sure I don't have to remind you how dangerous demons are - you are a fellow mage, after all," Vivienne continued, as if she was discussing the weather or how lovely the foliage looked. Estraven was finding it hard to breathe.

" _His_ name is Cole," she said slowly as her knuckles turned white.

Vivienne made a flippant hand gesture. "Call it whatever you like, but it is still a threat, and one that must be dealt with. You can't intend to let it _stay_ , can you?"

"You're not going to let her _stay_ , are you?" one of the hunters of Clan Lavellan had demanded after Estraven had become so upset by the feeling of velvet robes on her skin that she lost control of her budding magical powers and frozen an aravel solid. "She's a weakness. There's something wrong with her - send her off to a Circle, let the shems deal with it."

Shame. Terror. Guilt. So much guilt. It never left. Maybe it never would.

Feeling sick, knowing her words were going to come out wrong and stupid, Estraven still whipped her head around to glare at the taller mage. "Cole isn't a threat, he isn't a demon, he isn't a _thing_ , and he's staying," she snapped, her knees trembling. Rage was not a pleasant or fun feeling. There were no rushes of righteous anger for her - just a feeling that words and actions were spinning rapidly out of her control. "He actually wants to help, not just -- not just keep mages in prisons!" she sputtered. She was going too far and she knew it, the words tumbling out of her mouth like rain. Tears pricked at her eyes.

"You've been reduced to tears and yelling over a demon. Charming," Vivienne said as she folded her arms. "If you're truly unconcerned about its presence among the Inquisition, I will defer to your judgement. But do make sure Commander Cullen is around to keep an eye on it for when it decides to possess one of us."

Instead of succumbing to her base animalistic urges and throwing weak, noodle-armed punches at the First Enchanter, Estraven ran away.

They hadn't been in Skyhold for very long, and every crumbling stone hallway looked the same. She wanted to go to her room and hide under her bed, but found herself darting through corridors until she found an empty storage room. It was as good a place as any to bawl her eyes out. So she sat in the corner of the room on the stone floor and curled her knees into her chest, burying her face between them and gripping fistfuls of her black hair tightly.

"Freckles? You in here?"

Estraven looked up quickly as Varric peered around the door, desperately wishing her hair wasn't sticking to her face and she didn't have a line of snot running down her nose.

"Shit," was all she said.

The dwarf laughed and closed the door behind him. "Sorry for interrupting. You were running like darkspawn were chasing you. I figured I'd come check if everything was alright." He took a seat on the ground next to her. "I gather it isn't."

"Not really," she sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"The Iron Lady giving you a hard time?"

"Yeah." Varric didn't say anything else - just waited patiently for her to start talking. She loved that about him, how good he was at comforting people. He seemed to just know if you needed silence or encouragement. "She makes me feel so stupid. I… I _know_ I'm not smart, but even when I know I'm right she makes me feel like an idiot. My words never come out right around her. I've, uh, never ended up crying in a storage closet before, though." Estraven bit her lip. "Well, not because of her, anyway."

"Hey, we've all been there."

There was silence between them for a time, but it was comfortable and pleasant. Estraven hoped he didn't notice her surreptitiously wiping snot on the back of her sleeve.

(Varric noticed. He didn't say anything about it.)

"Would Hawke have been a good Inquisitor?" she finally asked.

Varric snorted. "Maker, no. Are you kidding? You saw how the Chantry lost their minds over an elf being called the Herald of Andraste, can you imagine the rioting if it was a blood mage instead?"

" _Suspected_ blood mage," Estraven said helpfully.

"Thanks, Freckles. The point is - no, Hawke would have been a terrible Inquisitor, if she'd even agreed to go along with the idea at all." He paused to look at her seriously. "I know you didn't want to be a leader, but that's why you're even better for the job. Cassandra wouldn't have asked you to be the Inquisitor if she didn't think you could handle it." Varric stood up and brushed his shirt off, extending a hand to help Estraven to her feet.

"Nobody here wants you to fail," Varric said, squeezing her hand. "Not even Vivienne. You pulled together such a diverse group that of course people are gonna butt heads, but we all want the same thing. Everyone wants you to succeed."

Estraven laughed quietly, straightening her hair out again. "Thanks, Varric. You always know how to make me feel better. Sorry you keep having to do it so much."

He smiled. "After my time in Kirkwall, cheering up sad elves is kind of a specialty. How about you go get cleaned up and have some 'me' time for a while?" he suggested.

She nodded. "That sounds good. Is Hawke still around? I'd, um, like to talk to the Champion of Kirkwall a little more, if I can," she said with a grin.

"Starstruck already? She'll be around until tomorrow. Why don't you meet us at the tavern later?" Varric offered. "It'll be a good way to relax."

"Alright. Thanks again. Sorry."

The dwarf playfully swatted her arm. "And stop with the apologizing! You're worse than Daisy. Speaking of - feel free to tell Hawke to back off if she gets a little…" He paused and shrugged apologetically. "...forward. She likes her girls magical and pointy-eared. Andraste's ass, you're probably like catnip to her."

### 

Naps have a way of making everything better, especially if you're a mage who can lucid dream about playing a match of Wicked Grace with several enthusiastic nugs. By the time Estraven rolled out of bed and made her way to the Herald's Rest tavern, the confrontation with Vivienne felt well behind her.

The tavern had the supernatural ability to always seem lively no matter what time of day it was, but Estraven liked the atmosphere most when the sun was just starting to set. Warm and inviting, not packed with people yet, but still full of excited buzzing in anticipation of a fun evening spent together. Estraven's well-practiced path took her up the first flight of stairs while waving to Krem and Iron Bull, around a corner, and up a second flight to the isolated corner on the top floor where Cole spent most of his time.

She was unaware of how her own steps quickened every time she ascended the stairs to the third floor, something the regulars hadn't failed to notice - including Cole.

"Sorry I didn't come around until so late. It's been a busy day," Estraven said, taking her regular seat by the railing where her legs could dangle off the edge of the floor.

Cole quietly took his place beside her, swinging his own legs back and forth rhythmically. "Yes. Varric and Cassandra yelling, so much anger."

"Are you already mind-reading? I just got here!"

He shook his head. "No. They're loud."

"Ah."

"You're hurting," he said, tilting his head to look at her. "It's not as bad anymore. Varric helped. But Vivienne, she…" He paused, and his gaze dropped down to the floor again. "She said things to you about me, but you thought they were about you, too."

Sometimes Estraven couldn't decide if Cole's lack of small talk was a blessing or a curse. She sighed and rested her head against one of the wooden beams supporting the railing. "I… guess I did."

Cole's legs stopped moving. _"Useless. Burdensome. What's wrong with me? Why can't I be normal? Why do they have to treat me like this? Hate them, hate them, not as much as I hate myself."_ Seeing her hands grip the wood tighter, he paused. "She wasn't talking about you. Vivienne, I mean. She wasn't talking about the shared part of us, either."

It was Estraven's turn to tilt her head. "What do you mean?"

"Touching velvet, hating the crunch of celery, unable to speak when feelings get too loud. That's not the part of me she doesn't like. That's not the part of _you_ she doesn't like." He frowned slightly, brows furrowing under the brim of his hat as he tried to find the words. "Vivienne has pain too. She hides it away, keeps it protected behind a wall of frosted glass, but it's there. _No one will ever control me again._ She's afraid. It -- it makes her forget I'm me."

They were quiet for a few moments. "I have no idea how you can be so patient with people who are so cruel to you, whatever their reasons might be," Estraven admitted.

"You're… not just upset over how it made you feel about yourself. You -- you're angry because of people being unkind to me?" Cole asked, looking confused.

"Well, of course," she said, folding her arms, "You don't deserve that. Nobody does, but _especially_ not you. Since you've shown up, all you've ever tried to do is help. Honestly, I wish more people were like you."

Cole blinked his big eyes at her, and she suddenly felt her face getting very hot.

_"Keep going up,"_ he said quietly, and Estraven's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. _"I should let them find me when the snow melts. Should be out of the way. No, no - I promised the shem. I have to--"_ All at once, Cole sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.

"Uhh," the elf stammered as she attempted to extricate herself from the railing.

"You were thinking about me?" he asked, an almost painful disbelief in his voice, as if he couldn't possibly comprehend the idea of being that important to someone else. "You wanted to stop, but you… you came back. You kept going. Because of -- because of me?"

Estraven stood up just in time to see Varric and definitely not a blood mage in a hooded cloak enter the tavern. Her mouth moved faster than her brain as she straightened her robes out. "Oh, Creators, how long have we been chatting for? This was so lovely, great fun, good talk, but I promised Varric I'd meet up with him a--"

Cole reached out and took one of her hands in his, and the squeak Estraven made was only audible to mabari.

"Why?"

It was difficult to phrase things eloquently when Cole was holding her hand and her cheeks were burning. "I -- I don't know!" she spluttered, averting her gaze. "You're -- I haven't met anyone else like you. Like me. The members of my clan, they -- they tolerated me, but I loved them, but they weren't bad, but I don't -- I don't think they understood, or wanted to understand." The words kept tumbling out, to her own painful embarrassment. "But it's more than that. Even if you weren't like me, I know you'd _want_ to understand. Because you care so much. About everyone."

He was quiet, and Estraven forced her eyes to look up at him again, even though she felt dizzy. The look on his face wasn't angry or upset, only confused, like he was attempting to solve a complex puzzle just by visualizing it in his head.

Seconds after the thought ran through Estraven's mind, Cole said, "You think I'm… cute when I pout."

"VARRIC IS HERE AND I HAVE TO GO _IMMEDIATELY_ ," she wheezed, turning on her heel and practically flying down the stairs.

The compassion spirit stared after her as she went for a long while before looking down at his hands.

### 

Much like naps, time spent drinking and talking with friends has a way of making things better. However, naps don't cause hangovers or mysterious bruises.

Estraven nursed both as she wandered up to Skyhold's ramparts with an apple in one hand, hoping the fresh air would clear her head. Varric and Hawke were apparently an unstoppable duo of drinking and merriment, and then Iron Bull had joined their table, and the elf couldn't remember everything but was fairly certain someone had to carry her back to her bed.

"Feeling alright, Inquisitor?" The voice startled Estraven, and she looked over to see the smiley blood mage seated atop a storage crate with a book in her hands.

"Last time I try to go drink for drink with a Qunari," she grumbled, prompting a laugh from Hawke. "Mind if I sit with you?" Hawke shook her head and scooted over to make room, and the pair leaned their backs against the stone wall as they looked out over the Skyhold courtyard.

"Thank you for accompanying Varric and I last night," Hawke said, closing her book and placing it in her lap. "I haven't had that much fun since… well, since Kirkwall. Turns out helping start a rebellion doesn't give you a lot of time to relax." She scratched her nose with a metal gauntlet. Estraven wondered how she wasn't constantly injuring herself on it.

The Inquisitor took a bite out of her apple. "Tell me about it," she said with her mouth half-full. Hawke laughed again. Even her voice and her laugh sounded regal, almost noble.

"No, I suppose being the Inquisitor can't be easy for you, either," Hawke said. "It's not a position I'm envious of. I doubt even the most mage-friendly Chantry members would take kindly to a maleficar being named the Herald of Andraste."

Now seemed like as good a time as any to ask. Estraven swallowed her bite of fruit and looked over at Hawke nervously. "About that… why blood magic?" she asked quietly. "I just… I heard about your mother, and... " Hawke's mouth pressed into a line for only a moment, barely perceptible, before her composure returned.

"There are a thousand other creative ways to horrifically kill someone _without_ using blood magic," she said, her voice cold. "They happen every day, but nobody says wielding a sword is inherently evil." Blinking, she turned her head back to Estraven, looking slightly embarrassed. "I… sorry. I have a tendency to get a bit defensive."

Estraven shook her head, waving her hands. "No, no, I'm sorry. It was rude of me to ask." She wanted to say, _"It was rude of me to bring up your dead mother",_ but figured mentioning it twice in the span of five minutes was an excellent way to make things worse. (Hawke understood.)

An uncomfortable silence hung over the pair.

"Well," Hawke said at last, "If we're both asking awkward questions, can it be my turn?" Her eyes gleamed with a hint of playfulness, mouth curving upward slightly.

"I guess it's only fair."

"Wonderful." Hawke clasped her hands together. "So, what do you intend to do about your massive crush on the boy with the hat?"

Estraven choked on her apple.

A few heavy coughs later, the elf wheezed, with watery eyes, "My what?!"

The maleficar smiled brightly. "Your massive crush on the boy with the hat. I think Varric said his name was Cole. The spirit." Estraven opened her mouth to protest, and Hawke held up a finger. "Inquisitor, if there's one thing I learned from playing cards with you last night, it's that you're an absolutely abysmal liar."

Her mouth closed, and then she sighed and pressed her free hand over her face. "Creators, how did you know?"

"Are you serious? You kept looking up toward his little hidey-hole on the third floor every few minutes. Also, you were holding hands when Varric and I walked in. That was kind of a giveaway."

Estraven crunched into her apple again, scowling as she chewed. "I don't _intend_ to do anything," she said. "We have a big hulking darkspawn lobster man trying to end the world. This isn't exactly the time for romance."

Hawke leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "Actually, in my experience, the end of the world is the perfect time for romance." She flashed another pearly white smile.

"My plan as far as dealing with this goes," Estraven said as she threw the apple core off the ramparts, "was to do nothing and hope it goes away eventually."

The maleficar frowned. "Wait, really?"

"Yes."

"Even though either of you could die on your next mission?"

"Kind of _because_ either of us could die on our next mission."

Her frown deepened. "Well, that isn't going to do at all."

Estraven huffed and hopped off of the crate, pacing as she ran her hands through her hair. "Then what do I do? Tell the Fade spirit I'd really like to kiss him? Cole doesn't even know what he _is_ half the time, Hawke! I think he has bigger things to worry about than courtship!"

This gave Hawke pause. The human mage pulled her legs up on top of the crate, crossing them and cupping her chin in a hand, brows furrowing as she thought. After a long while, she sighed as if defeated. "Sorry. You're probably right to take things slow," she admitted. "You… you just remind me of Merrill. Um--" she suddenly looked nervous, wringing her hands. "N-Not -- not just because you're both elves, or anything. It's not that. I'm making this worse, aren't I."

"A little."

"Right. Anyway. Merrill is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I know she was scared to tell me how she felt for so long, for a lot of reasons. She felt like she wasn't good enough, anything could happen to us at any moment, the time was never right. But the thing is, with the world as gone to shit as it is, there's never going to _be_ a 'right' time." She brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face, her expression turning serious again. "One day I was living in Hightown with the love of my life, surrounded by friends, and the next day one of my 'friends' blew up the Chantry and I had to start running for my life. I don't think I would have made it for so long if I didn't have Merrill by my side."

Hawke stood up and stretched out, leaning against the stone ramparts and looking out at the mountains in the distance. Her jovial, cheerful face was gone, replaced by a quiet sadness. "I see you, and you're a sweetheart -- don't blush at me, it's true -- and you're so young, with so much of a burden placed on you. You deserve to have your moments of happiness where you can find them. They'll keep you going when nothing else will."

"Keep going up," Estraven said softly.

"Hm?"

Estraven shook her head. "Nothing. Hawke… thank you. I'll think about it. There might not be a right time, but there are definitely wrong times. And I think this is the wrong time." Hawke nodded. "But maybe there'll be a… less… wrong time in the future. Or something."

"I hope they don't expect you to make speeches," Hawke teased with a smirk.

Estraven rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'll get Varric to write them if I have to."

"Good idea! That's what I always did."

The morning sun rose ever higher in the sky, and Hawke squinted as she looked upward. "I should be heading out for Crestwood soon. I hope this conversation wasn't too uncomfortable for you."

"It's fine. It's for the best that someone's making me think about this instead of avoiding it."

"One more thing before I go," Hawke said, turning back to Estraven and folding her arms. "You don't know any blood magic, do you?"

One of Estraven's dark eyebrows raised as she shook her head. "No. Why?"

Hawke chewed on her bottom lip. "Be careful bringing Cole around blood mages. If he is a spirit, a powerful enough blood mage could bind him to their will and force him to do their bidding. They could turn him into a demon."

Estraven's heart dropped into her stomach. "What?"

"I don't know what the odds of that happening are, but it's something you should know. The only way to prevent that from happening, as far as I know of, would be to… bind him to someone else first." Hawke scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Like you."

"I'm not binding Cole to me with blood magic!" Estraven practically hissed, her voice lowered.

"Not even if it meant saving his life? Because that's the choice you might have to make," Hawke said sternly. "I can teach you what you'd need to know to perform the binding ritual. Talk to him about it first, of course, I'm not saying you spring it on him -- that would be horrific. But the option is there." She put a hand on the elf's shoulder and looked down at her. "I just want to make sure you're both safe."

After a moment of uneasy quiet, Estraven gave a tiny nod. "I'll think about it," was the best she could say.

Hawke left for Crestwood.

### 

Incidentally, the real answer to Estraven's earlier question - "why blood magic?" - was something Hawke had said after a group of templar hunters had jumped her, Merrill, Varric, and Anders in Darktown. What could three mages and a rogue (even a particularly handsome, dashing one) do against that many templars?

Hawke still had the scar on her palm from when she'd figured out the answer. She'd turned their blood to boiling while Merrill and Anders were helpless on the ground. As they dropped, she'd staggered over to them both while Varric let out a string of curses.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, _blood magic_?! We could've taken them! Why did y--" He had stopped yelling as soon as her gaze fixed on him with an intensity he'd never seen before.

"I would do anything," Hawke breathed shakily, "to keep all of you safe."

It was the same reason why, weeks later, she found herself standing with the Inquisition's armies outside a fortress full of blood mages, demons, and corrupted Grey Wardens. Her eyes flicked to Varric again as they marched forward.

Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee! Next time: Adamant! I'm not looking forward to writing sad chapters :'D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trouble with being head over heels for a spirit of compassion is that he knows you love him before you ever say it out loud. Estraven's unwillingness to put Cole in danger forces her to confess her feelings for him. In the Western Approach, Hawke shows how far she'll go to protect her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the delay in updates, but this chapter is nice and long, so I hope it was worth the wait! I actually had to split this into two, because it kept getting longer and longer - so hopefully Chapter 7 will be up soon. Once again, every chapter from here on out has big spoilers. Please enjoy!

Of course the Grey Warden mages were using blood magic. Of course. Estraven ran a gloved hand through her hair and tried to ignore Hawke's worried looks as Warden Alistair explained how his entire order had, apparently, all jumped off the fucking deep end at once.

Alistair wasn't what she had expected. For one, he was too nice for a human prince who had helped save the world. And in spite of the fact that they were standing in a cave in the middle of nowhere talking about blood magic, he somehow had a laid-back air of friendliness about him. Heroes weren't supposed to be approachable.

Then again, the Champion of Kirkwall had taken an extremely vested interest in her love life, so maybe it was time to re-evaluate that idea.

"You're… you're _sure_ it's blood magic?" Estraven asked. "I thought the Wardens were supposed to… not do things like that."

"This wouldn't be the first time, actually," Hawke said, and while her voice never lost its pleasant, airy tone, only Varric noticed how her jaw set.

The elf scratched her head. "Okay. This sounds… bad."

Mercifully, she did not feel Solas's gaze boring into the back of her head at the understatement of the year.

Picking up a map from a sad-looking, waterlogged table, Alistair pointed with a gloved finger at the desert in southwestern Orlais. "Wardens are gathering here, at the Western Approach. There's an old Tevinter ritual tower there. I plan to investigate." He looked up at Estraven and Hawke. "I could use some help."

He looked tired. Heroes weren't supposed to look so tired.

"Of course. We'll all go together," Estraven said with a nod she hoped was reassuring. "In the meantime, you should come back to Skyhold with us. There were Wardens just outside of town earlier, looking for you. It's not safe for you to stay here anymore." She looked around the damp, dark cave. "We can also, ah, give you nicer accommodations."

Alistair smiled lightly, and even with the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion, it was easy to believe he was a prince. "Much appreciated, Inquisitor. Lead the way."

### 

"You said at Crestwood that we'd all go together!"

"Cole, no matter how much you make your adorable sad puppy eyes at me, I'm not putting you in danger by waltzing you directly into the middle of a group of fucking blood mages."

Cole continued to make the adorable sad puppy eyes at her. Estraven pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed in Elvish as she took a seat in her usual spot by the tavern's third floor railing. He hurriedly sat next to her, so close their legs were touching.

"I can help you if I go," he said, his eyes still pleading. Estraven stared at the wooden beam she rested her head on. "I can't help if I stay here. I won't be any trouble."

That got her to look at him. He was so earnest, so sincere. And, Creators, that _pout_.

Sighing, she turned her body to face him, hugging her legs into her chest. "It's not that you'd be trouble. You're never trouble, Cole, I promise." She pressed her face against her knees, the soft fabric of her pants rubbing against her skin. "Hawke told me about what blood mages can do to spirits. They could use blood magic to bind you to them -- to turn you into a demon. I can't let that happen to you."

He was quiet for a time.

"Hawke said you should bind me to you so they couldn't control me, couldn't make me hurt you. She said she'd teach you how. But you didn't want to. Why?"

_Not this again._ Estraven sat up straight, rubbing her face with her hand. "It feels wrong. I don't want to control you like that. Not ever."

Cole tilted his head. "But you wouldn't make me do anything bad. You wouldn't make me hurt anyone. And I'd be safer."

Something was welling up in her chest. That frightening, caged feeling, the one that bubbled to the surface when she couldn't find the right words to express herself. Or rather, she had the words - "I think I'm falling in love with you and it seems wildly immoral and unethical to use blood magic to literally control you" - but absolutely refused to say them.

The thing about Cole was that Estraven didn't have to say them.

He looked at her curiously. _"Heart racing, can't think straight when he looks at me. Fingers trembling as his hand holds mine, knowing it's friendship but wishing, wanting it to be more, wondering if his lips are as s--"_ Cole gasped, his face flushing bright red as he covered it with his hands, which Estraven would have melted over if she wasn't about to shriek and throw herself off the railing.

_"Fenedhis!"_ she spat as she leapt to her feet and turned too fast on her heel, tripping herself and stumbling over. The second before her face smacked into the wooden floor, Cole caught her in his arms.

Again, it would have been wonderfully romantic if she wasn't fairly certain she was about to genuinely die from embarrassment.

He looked down at her as he held her, the pair caught in a pose resembling two awkward and terrible (possibly drunk) dancers. "You -- that -- you -- you feel that about _me_?" he gaped, his eyes wide.

This was not the ideal love confession she'd had in mind.

"...yes," Estraven admitted.

Cole dropped her.

"Augh! Fuck!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You know, you two, there _is_ a bedroom up there," Iron Bull's booming voice called from downstairs.

"You're gonna need another fucking eye patch when I come back down there, you ass!" Estraven shouted as she propped herself up off the floor, rubbing the back of her head. Bull's laughter echoed through the tavern.

Cole wrung his hands as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The poor thing looked like he wanted to disappear into his hat. "That's what it's been, all this time. I -- I -- I don't --"

Estraven held up one hand, placing the other firmly against her face. "Cole… agh, okay, listen," she said, her voice muffled by her palm. "I have feelings for you. Romantic ones. If you don't feel the same way about me, it's fine." Now it was her turn to wring her hands and avoid eye contact. "You're important to me. No matter what. You're probably the best friend I've ever had. That won't change." Why did she feel like she was about to cry? Her nails dug into the skin on the back of her hands. "And I… I don't want you to say anything yet. About this. I want you to take time to think about it."

Cole paused his fidgeting to stare at her intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle. "You want me to love you because I _want_ to love you. Not because I think it could help," he said slowly.

She nodded, blinking rapidly in a desperate effort not to cry in front of him. "Yeah." Her voice cracked a bit, and she coughed into her hands. "So, um, anyway. That's why me binding you is out of the question. It would be wrong. But until the blood mages have been dealt with, I can't take you on missions with me."

"You wish I could go with you."

"Of course I do! I _just_ said I'm falling in love with you, you dumb shem," Estraven laughed, even as her voice broke and she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "Shit. I'm terrified to go without you. But I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. If someone made you into something you're not." The tears were flowing faster and she was sniffling and her voice was shaking and she felt very, very stupid.

Cole wrapped his arms around her. It was a tentative embrace, and not the first time they'd hugged (the elf was a hugger), but something felt more intimate. One of his hands rested on the back of her head as she pressed it against his chest. 

"I'll get your shirt wet," she mumbled, making no attempt to move.

They didn't speak for a while. It was nice to not have to fill their silences with noise.

"I'll think about what you said. About love. I won't say anything yet," Cole said eventually. "Wanting is… strange."

Estraven snorted. "You're fucking telling me." She gave him a final squeeze and pulled away, looking up at him and trying hard not to think about how very badly she wanted to kiss him, which, of course, made her think about it even more. "We're leaving for the Western Approach tomorrow. Stay safe, yeah?"

He nodded. "I will try."

"Don't tell anyone I cried on you."

"The Iron Bull already knows you did. He has very good hearing."

"I won't tell anyone you're a crier, boss!" Bull shouted from downstairs, his voice bouncing off the wooden walls.

Estraven sighed.

### 

The Western Approach was miserable. It was sandy, and everything that moved wanted to kill them, and there wasn't so much as a single breeze to provide even momentary relief from the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on them. Estraven would have wished Cole was there more if it hadn't meant subjecting him to this hellscape.

Somehow, Hawke still managed to look like a fairy tale princess even after they'd been walking through the desert for hours. Not a single blonde hair out of place on her perfect head. If that was what blood magic could do, Estraven was starting to reconsider Hawke's offer.

The group had made camp a little ways away from the Tevinter ritual tower Alistair had directed them to. The sun was rapidly starting to set, and Hawke and Varric had scouted out the tower and reported that the Wardens hadn't arrived yet. "How about we rest for the night and go check it out in the morning?" Estraven suggested, and was met with resounding agreement from the others.

Iron Bull and Hawke started setting up a fire together, and Estraven took a seat next to Solas on a blanket.

"Solas, you don't know blood magic, right?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. I would learn, but it weakens one's connection to the Fade." The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. "As such, you can imagine why I have reservations about practicing it." He gestured at Hawke, who was trying to use her magic to light the fire while Bull insisted on using flint and steel. "It's a shame - it's quite powerful, as Hawke has made apparent."

"I've never actually seen her use it."

"If you two are whispering about Princess over there, I'm joining," Varric said, sitting on Estraven's opposite side.

Estraven propped herself back on her elbows, stretching out her sore legs. "Hey, Varric, what did Hawke mean in the cave back in Crestwood? When she said this wasn't the first time Grey Wardens had used blood magic?"

Varric sighed and rubbed the stubble along his jaw. "Let's just say she's got a bit of... bad blood with the Wardens."

Solas and Estraven both groaned. The dwarf chuckled. "Sorry, sorry - couldn't help myself. Anyway." His expression turned serious again. "The long and the short of it is that the previous Warden-Commander forced Hawke's father to use blood magic to try to seal away Corypheus."

"What? Forced him? How?" Estraven asked. By this point, Alistair had joined Hawke and Bull by the campfire, and was trying in vain to assist Bull with lighting the fire while Hawke patiently watched them struggle, a small ball of flame dancing around her fingertips.

"He threatened Leandra - Hawke's mother." Varric grimaced. "While Leandra was pregnant with Hawke. It was… ugly."

"I'm surprised Hawke wanted to assist the Wardens at all after that," Solas commented. Alistair and Bull had given up on the flint and steel and Hawke beamed as she snapped her fingers and turned the pile of logs into a warm, roaring blaze, lighting up the rapidly encroaching darkness with an orange glow.

Varric shrugged. "She might not fully trust them, but she lost her sister to the darkspawn when they attacked Lothering. She knows how bad the Blights can be."

"Are you allowed to be telling us all this?" Estraven's voice was a quiet whisper.

"Don't worry. I'm not telling you anything secret, here. Hawke doesn't really do secrets, anyway. Except for the blood mage thing."

On cue, Hawke planted her staff firmly in the sand and took a seat by the fire next to Varric. "Are you gossiping about me, Mister Tethras?"

"Princess, I wrote a book about your life story. I think that's as gossipy as it gets."

Hawke smiled. "The Wardens have done some questionable things, but they're not all bad. Alistair's pretty alright."

"I'm pretty?" Alistair asked, popping his head up from digging around in his backpack.

"And Carver -- ah, my brother's a Warden too. They saved his life in the Deep Roads," Hawke explained. Alistair tossed her a small roll of bread, which she gracefully caught out of the air. "So I can't really hold too much of a…" All of a sudden, something in her expression shifted and she looked like she'd been punched in the gut.

Varric sat up straight. "Hawke. What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, squeezing the roll of bread in her hands. "I-I'm sorry. I just put it together. If every Warden is hearing the Calling, then…"

"Carver," Varric muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing. He put a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "Don't worry, Princess. We'll figure out what's going on and we'll put a stop to it."

Hawke tried to smile again, but it was something weak and uncertain. "Sorry for spoiling the mood, everyone. If you don't mind, I'm going to turn in early." She stood up, brushing sand off her legs, and plucked her staff out of the ground, heading to her tent and disappearing inside it. Varric followed.

"Dinner's rea-- aw, shit, what'd I miss?" Bull asked through a mouthful of chicken as he held out plates to the others.

Estraven couldn't help but laugh, taking her plate from him. "Nothing. Thanks for cooking."

"Thank me _after_ you try it, boss." He and Alistair sat by the fire, the group forming a comfortable circle around it as they ate.

"It's strange to be travelling without Cole," Solas said. It was true enough - this was the first time since Cole had joined the Inquisition that Estraven, Solas, and Iron Bull had gone on a mission without him. "Even so, it was wise of you to leave him behind for this, Inquisitor."

Alistair looked confused. "Sorry, wait, which one of you is Cole?"

"The squirrely lookin' kid," Bull explained, stabbing a dumpling with his fork. "Big hat."

"He was with us when we met you in Crestwood," Estraven added.

Alistair frowned. "I don't remember anyone like that."

_Oh._ "Uhh. He's a Fade spirit who looks like a human who can make people forget him," she said, putting a bite of chicken into her mouth. "Don't worry about it."

"Riiiight. Oh, hey, here's something - the Hero of Ferelden is an elf, too!" Alistair said excitedly as he looked from Estraven to Solas and back again. The pair blinked. Crickets chirped loudly in the desert evening.

"So I've heard," Solas replied coolly.

"Well, maybe -- do you know each other?"

Somewhere across Thedas, at that exact moment, Warden-Commander Valla Surana had an overwhelming urge to put her face in her hands and groan without knowing exactly why.

### 

The next morning, Hawke and Alistair went ahead to the ritual tower to scout. The Inquisitor and her companions followed along shortly after, an unpleasant knot of anxiety coiling up in Estraven's stomach. She kept instinctively reaching her hand out to the left for Cole's hand the way she often did when she was nervous on a mission and needed grounding, but found only arid desert air. 

Except for when another hand grabbed hers and squeezed tight. And then another to her other hand. Iron Bull and Varric smiled.

"It's gonna be fine, Freckles. We've got you," Varric reassured the flighty elf.

"C'mon, Solas, you can hold my hand!" Bull teased.

"Tempting, but I believe I shall pass."

They walked to the Tevinter tower hand in hand in hand, Solas trailing behind them with the slightest hint of an amused grin on his face. Hawke and Alistair were waiting for them, their mouths set into worried lines.

"We have to move. They've started their ritual," Hawke whispered, gesturing up the tall steps leading to the tower's plateau. "I'll be right behind you." Her eyes flicked down to Varric before looking back at Estraven. "I'll keep you safe."

"Hawke," Varric warned. She waved a hand at him dismissively.

"If we can spare any of the Warden recruits, I'd appreciate it," Alistair interrupted, a hand on his sword. "I'd rather not kill my brothers and sisters if it can be helped. Hopefully some of them will be willing to listen to reason."

Estraven bit her thumb through her glove, looking up at the tower. "We probably should've brought Blackwall."

"Little late for that," Bull said.

They hustled across the bridge and up the stairs to the top of the tower and were greeted by the bodies of several dead Wardens, surrounded by Warden mages with demons at their sides. Bull let loose a string of what Estraven (correctly) assumed were Qunlat curses. Alistair's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

In the center of it all was a man with audacious mage armor and questionable facial hair, who fixed his gaze on Estraven as she and the rest stepped onto the plateau. "I-Inquisitor! What an unexpected pleasure," he lied through his teeth, every word smothered in condescension. He bowed with an arm gesture so overblown that Estraven would have laughed if she hadn't been surrounded by dead people and demons. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."

"Oh, shut the _fuck_ up," Estraven said before she could stop herself. From somewhere behind her, Hawke choked.

"I'm guessing you're not a Warden," Alistair said, a sharp steel underneath the playful tone of his words.

"But you are," Erimond said as he paced, sighing, "The one Clarel let slip. And you got the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?"

Estraven assumed this man wouldn't be up for diplomacy. Better try to save the Warden mages before things turned ugly. "Hey! This man is lying to all of you. He's working for an ancient Tevinter magister - a darkspawn, I should add - who wants to start a Blight." She tried not to reach for her staff, instead clenching and unclenching her fists. "Maybe reconsider helping him out."

Erimond smiled, which was not exactly the reaction she had hoped for. "Wardens, what do you think? Hands… up!" As he raised his left hand, every Warden mage raised their own at exactly the same speed, and lowered them when he did the same.

"Well, shit," Varric said.

"Corypheus has enslaved them," Alistair practically snarled.

_I'm **really** glad I didn't bring Cole._

Erimond was talking, presumably laying out the details of his master plan in the way that all villains were required by law to do, but Estraven was trying to combat her rapidly rising nausea. If one of the Warden mages got hold of Cole, they wouldn't just be binding him to them, but to Corypheus as well? The thought was enough to make her ill.

_Oh, he mentioned something about a plan. I should pay attention._

"Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

"Ah," said Estraven. Creators, if she didn't say something else fast he was going to keep talking. She jabbed a finger toward him in what she hoped was an intimidating motion. "Right, I don't think you're going to listen, but: release the Wardens from their bindings. Let them go." She stopped herself from adding 'please' onto the end.

The magister extended a hand towards her that pulsed with red, crackling energy, and all at once the Anchor on Estraven's hand lit up so brightly it shone through her leather gloves. Searing pain shot up from the palm of her hand through her arm and into her head, and before she could even make a noise she was on her hands and knees repressing the urge to vomit. She felt his magic pressing at her mind, against her hand, a slimy, unwelcome touch. He was _still fucking talking_ , and as he did Estraven pushed at his magic with her own, feeling where it connected and… there.

In a swift motion, she stood back on her feet and shoved back with all the mental strength she could, severing his connection to the Anchor so violently that it actually blasted him head over heels backwards onto his ass. She would've given anything to preserve the look on his face in her mind forever.

His shriek of "Kill them!" interrupted her reverie, and she snapped her staff off her back as the Warden mages and their bound demons turned on the party.

It was strange to think how fighting had become almost routine for Estraven. Months ago the only thing she'd fought was the occasional frightened druffalo with the backup of her clan hunters. Now it was a choreographed, smooth affair as the team took down demons. Barriers up first while she and Solas fell to the back lines and Iron Bull charged forward, their friendly magic rippling around him as he roared. Feet firmly planted on the ground as she slung icy projectiles out of her staff with practiced precision at the rage demons. Freezing a mage solid before Alistair shattered him to pieces with his sword. Like a dance where they all wound up covered in blood at the end (although Dorian insisted that was the norm for ballroom affairs in Tevinter).

One of the shades slithered across the sandstone toward her, but she kept her breathing steady. Don't panic and run. Keep casting. Cole was there to clean up any stragglers who made it to --

_Oh, fuck._

In a perfect storm of terrible timing, Estraven's magic shield dissipated just as the gurgling demon reached her, clawed hands outstretched. It knocked her to the ground easily, stars crossing her vision as her head cracked against the stone. Her staff clattered to the floor out of reach.

"Solas!" she gasped, trying to frantically conjure ice without her staff. All that came out was a weak frost covering her gloves. It was all too much to focus - the rising panic, the pain coursing through her head, the heat on her leathers and the way her leggings snagged on the stone, the noise of battle. One of the Warden mages swing his staff at her and a burst of electricity jolted her body.

Everything started to fade out. She was vaguely aware of Solas's panicked shout of "lethallan!", followed by another crack of lightning and an ungodly noise of pain from Varric. Estraven kept weakly fumbling for her staff as her vision blurred.

Then Hawke was screaming "Varric!" in the most animalistic, terrified way Estraven had ever heard, and Varric was coughing and yelling at Hawke to stop and the Warden mage looming above Estraven with his staff blade poised at her stomach literally turned inside out.

She laid on the ground motionless, afraid to even breathe for a few moments in the sudden, eerie quiet. A wet thud broke the silence. With all the effort she could muster, she rolled onto her side.

Hawke's blue eyes were wide and wild, her face a sickly white. Bright red blood ran from the open wounds on her palms down to her fingertips and onto the ground beneath her. Her chest heaved as she sucked in ragged breaths, unfocused eyes fixed on the floor where she kneeled. Varric, in spite of the injury Estraven had heard him take, looked fine - maybe even better than he had this morning. Except for the look of horror on his face. The Warden mages had turned into unrecognizable piles of meat. Estraven retched.

"Princess. Hawke," Varric said slowly, reaching out to touch the side of Hawke's face. Her eyes met his, and as she blinked tears lazily rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, and her voice was quiet, almost childlike. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The dwarf wrapped his arms around her, their foreheads touching. "It's okay. It's alright. We're safe now. It's all over."

Her whole body sagged. "I went too far. I went too far. I'm sorry," she whimpered, her bottom lip quivering. Varric shushed her and stroked her messy blonde hair.

Solas was on his feet and at Estraven's side, looking her over. "The Inquisitor is badly wounded. We need to get her and Hawke back to camp. Iron Bull, help Varric with Hawke. Warden Alistair, if you would assist me with carrying the Inquisitor." His tone held the sort of calmness one can only have when they're mentally shrieking inside. 

It was strange how Solas was able to lift her up at first without Alistair's help, being as slight as he was, but Estraven was in no position to pay more attention to it as she slipped into unconsciousness.

### 

The journey back to Skyhold from the Western Approach was somber and quiet. Hawke and Estraven were, for the most part, unconscious, resting side by side in the back of the Inquisition's supply wagons. When Hawke was awake, she mostly stared up at the sky, her expression empty.

They couldn't get back fast enough.

Estraven had been asleep when they passed through Skyhold's gates, and was woken by Solas gently shaking her shoulders.

"Lethallan," he said softly, "we're home."

No sooner had Estraven wobbled out of the wagon and put her feet on the courtyard grass when there was a rush of air whooshing in her direction, followed by Cole materializing inches in front of her.

"Hel--"

"I wasn't there. You're hurt. I should have come." He pulled at the edges of his hat in distress. Estraven and Solas looked at one another. She wasn't sure she could be as articulate as she needed to be right now.

"Cole, help me take the Inquisitor to her quarters. She needs to rest."

### 

According to Alistair, Erimond had run off in the direction of an abandoned Grey Warden outpost called Adamant Fortress. Once Hawke and Estraven had recovered, Cullen would lead the Inquisition's army to Adamant, and they would all - ideally - save the day and not die horribly.

Ideally.

"You're still not coming," Estraven mumbled as Cole gingerly placed a mug of tea on her bedside table. He stared.

"I put in extra honey," he said hopefully.

"Thanks. Still not coming."

He tried the pout.

"Preserving that pout is half the reason you're not coming."

Cole sat in her bed next to her, taking care to remove his shoes first. "I don't want you to get hurt again because I'm not there."

Estraven sat up against the headboard, taking the mug of tea in her hands and blowing on it gently. "Cole, the reason I got hurt was because I fucked up. If you were there, things could have gone much worse. Hawke nearly killed herself going berserk over a mage making Varric eat lightning. It was bad."

"You can eat lightning?" he whispered.

She patted his hand. "Sorry. Just an expression." She took a sip of tea. He'd put the perfect amount of honey in it, which, for her, meant at almost a one to one ratio with the tea itself. "They were sacrificing each other, pulling demons out of the Fade and binding them. They could have done it to you, and that was just a handful of them. I'm not sending you into a fortress full of them."

Cole's fingertips traced around the brim of his hat as he thought. "I don't know how I can help you if I'm not there."

"You can help me by staying here, and staying safe, and not turning into a demon. That would be _extremely_ helpful," Estraven suggested.

He bit his bottom lip, in much the same way she wanted to, and was quiet for a while. Estraven kept drinking the tea he'd made for her.

"I've been to Adamant before," Cole said, his fingers tracing patterns on her blanket. "When I was looking for Rhys. The Veil is thin there. I went into the Fade with them - with Rhys and Evangeline." His fingers stopped moving and his eyes squeezed shut. "A demon put me back in the cabinet on the bad day." 

His nails dug into the blanket, and Estraven placed one of her hands on top of his and squeezed gently. "You're not there anymore. You're in Skyhold, with me. You're safe," she said. With effort, he nodded and opened his eyes.

"It should be torn down," he said, and his voice was unexpectedly severe. "It hurts people. So much fear. I don't want it to hurt you, too." His hand turned over and he wrapped his fingers between hers.

As she stared down into her mug of tea, Estraven felt like she did not at all have the energy or desire to keep arguing this. Cole was holding her hand, he'd made her the perfect cup of tea, the blankets were warm, and she was leaving for Adamant tomorrow. "We can talk about it later," she said after a yawn, taking another sip of tea and flopping her head over onto his shoulder. By the time she even realized she'd drifted off, Cole was gone, and her mug had been gently placed on her bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GET READY FOR HEARTACHE NEXT CHAPTER :D
> 
> Also, I've been thinking about making a little collection of side stories to go along with this fic - one-shots that happen in the same universe/timeline as When You Sleep, but that I couldn't fit into a chapter for whatever reason. Is that something you'd be interested in reading? Let me know! Thanks so much for continuing to read this!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estraven and her group are pulled into the Fade physically at Adamant. Everyone has a terrible time except for Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I have some actual notes for this chapter instead of thankful rambling, but I'll put them at the end. Enjoy!

It was only later that Estraven realized Cole had never actually promised to stay at Skyhold. "Later" specifically being when the Inquisition's army stormed the gates of Adamant Fortress and Cole appeared in the courtyard next to her, daggers in hand, as if by magic. Or Fade spirit shenanigans.

"Cole, what are you _doing_ here?!" she shouted over the commotion of the fighting, slinging ice from her staff at a nearby demon.

"Helping!" was the incredibly predictable answer he yelled back as he sunk his daggers into a possessed mage.

The whole of the Inquisition was fighting together in the courtyard - they needed as much strength as they could muster. The plan was for Estraven, Alistair, Hawke, and a few others to try to get to the center of the compound to find Warden-Commander Clarel and Erimond. A small team could move faster and, hopefully, find a way to undo the mind control Corypheus held over the Warden mages before the Inquisition's army was forced to kill all of them.

Simple, really! There was absolutely no way this could go wrong.

As the last demon in the courtyard fell to a tag-team attack from Sera and Blackwall (followed by a whoop and a high-five), Cullen rushed to Estraven's side, breathing hard. "Inquisitor, we have a problem."

Estraven wiped sweat from her brow. "Of course."

Cullen pointed up toward the battlements, his silver armor glinting in the firelight. "There's too much resistance on the battlements. Our troops can't get their ladders in place with all the Wardens and demons up there. It's impossible to get a solid foothold. Your main priority is still to find Warden-Commander Clarel, but if you can spare any help for our men up there, it'd make a big difference."

They had to move now. "Understood. We'll do everything we can to help them out." Estraven took a quick moment to catch her breath before looking at her companions and pointing. "Solas, Bull, Varric, come with me. Blackwall, I want you, Sera, and Vivienne to see if you can talk some sense into any of the Wardens - but don't get yourselves hurt." She took another deep breath. "Cassandra and Dorian, you two stay with Cole and kill any blood mages that even _look_ at him."

"I'm coming with you," Cole said, and Estraven could have snapped her staff in two over her knee. They absolutely did not have time to argue. 

"Fine!" she snapped, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat. "Varric, stay with Cassandra and Dorian. Help our soldiers out however you can. Cole, Solas, Bull, let's move."

The group darted up the stairs and raced deeper into the heart of the fortress.

### 

The fucking dragon had shown up again.

One moment they had all been falling through the air, the wind rushing by and the ground growing closer and Estraven had reached out with her hand and the next they were in the Fade and there was a whole lot of shouting going on.

Hawke was, somehow, standing perpendicular on a rock in midair, white-knuckle gripping her staff and mumbling under her breath (the only thing Estraven could catch was "Andraste's blessed asshole", and so she decided not to bother her). Iron Bull was yelling, "Oh, this is _SHITTY_ ", and Cole was just _screaming_ , and Solas looked like a delighted, starry-eyed child.

The mission was going well.

"What _happened_?" Alistair asked above the commotion.

Estraven pushed herself up off the ground and looked up at the rocky, sickly-green sky.

"I think I pulled us into the Fade."

Alistair scratched his chin. "I don't make a habit of coming here often, but I'm pretty sure the last time I was here it didn't look like this." He looked around. "There was cake, for one."

Solas turned his attention back to the others. "It is because we are here physically." He fixed his gaze back on the sky, pointing with a slender hand. "Look - the Black City, almost close enough to touch. I never imagined I would find myself here like this!"

In spite of her rising panic, Estraven had to admit there were pangs of excitement and wonder beneath it as well. But it wasn't the time to focus on that.

"Cole, how does it feel to be home?" Solas asked excitedly, apparently completely failing to notice how the spirit looked like he was in the middle of a heart attack. 

Cole's words stumbled out all at once in a jumbled mess as he pulled on the edges of his hat and paced and turned, seemingly looking desperately for an exit. "I -- I -- I can't be here! Not like this! Not like me!" He was breathing hard and shaking, fingertips trembling as he ran his hands over his face.

Both Estraven and Solas's hands touched Cole's shoulders gently. The elves looked at each other, worry plain as day on both their faces.

"This place is wrong," Cole gasped, "I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I -- I know it wasn't like this!"

Hawke had figured out how to get herself down from the floating rock she was stuck on, and gently fell through the air to rest next to Alistair. "Perhaps it's because we're here physically," she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"You opened a rift in the Main Hall of Adamant. Do you think we can get back if we find it in the same location here?" Alistair asked, gesturing at a glowing green hole in the distant sky. "It… shouldn't be _too_ far away, right?"

Estraven looked at Solas and tilted her head. He nodded. "In theory, it should work."

"Alright. Let's go." She took Cole's hand in hers. He was still trembling, his breaths still ragged. "Cole," she said softly.

He turned his head to look down at her, his blue eyes full of terror and his brows knit together with worry. She squeezed his hand hard. "It's going to be okay. You're real, and you're here with us, and we're all going to protect each other." The most he could give was a slow nod of acknowledgement. "Grab my hand as hard as you need to. I'm right here." His grip tightened on her small hand instantly.

They walked, steps echoing and splashing through water that wasn't there, passing by floating rock formations that could never actually exist.

"Solas, do you have any advice that could help us out here?" Iron Bull asked, then added, "Or, ideally, some maps?"

Solas bristled. "I'd never come to this part of the Fade voluntarily. The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful. Some variety of fear, I would guess." Bull sighed. "I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience," the elf said altogether too brightly.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Bull grumbled as he trudged forward. "Boss, you owe me big time when we get out of here. Getting dragged through the ass-end of demon town wasn't part of the contract."

"Bull, I will get you an entire village's worth of enthusiastic, nubile redheads with fetishes for scars and muscles when we make it out alive," Estraven said. Alistair turned pink.

It was then she heard Cole whimpering beside her as they moved. "Wrong, wrong, wrong," he whispered, "wringing me out. Wrought right and rigid. Can't relax. Can't release…" His panting became heavy again, the words seeming to force all the air out of his lungs. She squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture so tightly Estraven was concerned her hand would break.

"Cole, it's alright. We're going to get out of here. Focus on my hand, on my voice. We'll get you out soon."

His breaths shook. "Thank you," he managed.

The group pressed on, up winding stairs carved in the damp black rock that seemed to change distance and size even as they moved. No one spoke much, apart from occasionally reassuring Cole, and Solas cheerily making observations on the foreboding, unfriendly landscape around them. Until Hawke turned a corner and came face to face with Divine Justinia.

"Maker," Alistair gasped as Hawke stumbled backwards over herself.

Estraven blinked. "You're… the Divine," she said as she approached, even though she knew that was impossible. The thing in front of them (which, for all intents and purposes, looked like the wrinkly old woman with the funny hat who had saved Estraven at Haven) just smiled in response.

"I'm… I thought you were dead," Estraven said bluntly.

"She probably is," Alistair added, looking wary. "That's likely a spirit. Or a demon. Stay on your guard."

"Inquisitor," the entity said in a thick Orlesian accent, "you do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"Yeah -- um, yes." Estraven straightened up. "...ma'am."

"It is because your memories were stolen by the demon who serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror." The Divine looked toward Alistair. "The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

His features set into a grimace. "I'd like to have a few words with this Nightmare about that."

Estraven scratched her head. "The Nightmare is the really fu-- the, uh, big demon Erimond was trying to pull through?"

"Yes," the Divine replied.

"It's… nearby?"

"Yes."

Estraven closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose for an excessively long time. "Well, shit."

"Yup," Hawke said.

"Inquisitor, when you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it." The Divine held her hands out toward Estraven, her fingertips glowing with a faint golden light. "We do not have much time. I can show you what happened, if you let me."

From behind them, Bull snorted. "Oh, fuck _that_ , boss. You let some demon lady put her glowy hands on your head and then you start killing all of us with that fancy staff." He folded his arms. "Happens all the time."

"Whatever this entity is, it seems friendly enough," Hawke leaned against her staff and glanced toward the rift in the sky. "And it's right. We don't have time. I don't know how much time outside is passing while we're in here, but the Inquisition's soldiers are fighting and dyi--"

Before Hawke could finish her sentence, Estraven had already leaned forward and touched her forehead against the spirit's outstretched hands.

_I got lost at the Conclave because I had to pee and I couldn't find the bathroom and then I heard yelling and when I opened the door there was a woman suspended in midair and a monster in front of her and she smacked an orb out of his hand and it rolled toward me and I wasn't thinking, I wasn't, and I picked it up and it hurt so much and the woman was being held there by --_

Estraven stumbled backwards, shaking her head as her mind tried to piece itself back together.

"I didn't sign up to have the demon grandma put your memories in my head, too!" Bull righted himself, rubbing his eyes as if it would make the vision go away.

"So you all saw that too?" the elf asked, and then noticed Hawke's expression - a coldness that sent shivers down her spine.

"Those," Hawke said with a dangerous slowness, "were Grey Wardens holding the Divine. Their actions led directly to her death." She focused her gaze on Alistair.

"I assumed Corypheus had taken their minds. You've seen it happen yourself," he said calmly. "Come on. You can add it to the list of things to yell at the Wardens about when we get out of here."

The smile plastered across Hawke's face couldn't have been more hollow. "Oh, I intend to."

### 

"To recap," Iron Bull said as they walked, "we're in a big demon's nest. A really big _fear_ demon's nest."

"Yes," Solas replied.

"And now it knows we're here." Bull glared at Estraven as hard as he could with his good eye.

"Redheads," she mouthed.

The ground beneath their feet shook and rumbled, and a deep voice rang out through the air around them. "Ah, we have visitors."

"Actually, _now_ it knows we're here," Estraven whispered, and Bull swatted her on the arm.

"Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders," the voice said, and the landscape around them began to shift and distort.

There were trees, or things that seemed like trees unless Estraven looked too hard, and they stretched up into the green sky. A lake full of black water. Aravels. Clan Lavellan's old camp. Her heart sank.

"I'm here," Cole said from beside her.

She shut her eyes. "I already had to do this bullshit at Therinfal. I don't want to do this again. I don't want everyone else to see this."

Cole's hand was warm and solid as he wrapped his fingers between hers. Solas gently rested one of his hands on her shoulder. "We all have parts of ourselves we don't wish others to see, lethallan." He didn't look her in the eye as he spoke, his gaze focusing on the Black City still visible in the sky. "Whatever the Nightmare attempts to wield against you, we will be here by your side while you face it."

Gathering her courage, she stepped toward the camp in front of her, followed closely by the others. A memory unfolded in front of them - the same memory she had recalled while speaking to Vivienne weeks earlier. An aravel frozen in ice (along with a poor halla or two), a sobbing little elf, and an exasperated, fed-up clan. Estraven bit the inside of her cheeks and felt her chest grow tight as she looked at her younger self.

Tears streamed down the young girl's face as she struggled to catch her breath between heaving sobs, upset to the point of not being able to speak. It still happened sometimes, even years later - times where her voice would stop working, no matter how much she tried to bring it back and no matter how much she needed it. Estraven remembered that she'd cried so hard that day she made herself sick. The hunter in front of her was gesturing at her angrily and yelling at the Keeper but, curiously, no sounds were actually coming out of his mouth. 

"You lost control of your magic and almost killed a clan member because of… what was it again?" the Nightmare intoned, the voice seeming to echo inside her own head as well as through the space around them. "Ah, that's right… because of your velvet robes. How perfectly reasonable."

"Didn't think fear demons needed to be sarcastic," Bull muttered.

The expression on the Keeper's face as she looked at her daughter was impossible to read. It was always fucking impossible to read. Estraven clenched her fists. "They should have left you in the woods like they wanted," the Nightmare snapped, and the image before them flared up and shifted to the first attempt Estraven had made to get her vallaslin. The face her mother wore as her daughter wailed this time was an easy one to recognize - disappointment. "You were a burden on your clan, and now you're a burden on the Inquisition."

Tears pricked at the elf's eyes, and she didn't dare to speak out loud, but the thought coursed through her mind crystal-clear: _I know._

The landscape transformed again, showing them the day Estraven had left for the conclave. "There was no special mission for you there. They wanted to be rid of you." And once more, resting on a final image of her standing apart from the rest of the Inquisition. "The Inquisition will want to be rid of you as well."

This time, the words did come out. _"I know!"_ she shouted at the mirage, the sudden yell making Cole jump. "You're not telling me anything I don't already tell myself!" She wiped at her angry tears with the back of a hand.

Solas placed his hand firmly on her shoulder again. "The Dalish are simple-minded. They refuse to try to accept things they don't underst--"

"Fen'Harel's _balls_ , Solas, this isn't the fucking time to start insulting me again! I get it!"

The other elf's eyes fluttered closed in irritation for half a second before he opened them again. "That is not what I'm doing." 

Her mouth shut. 

"Your clan was wrong about you, lethallan. Had they tried to understand the way your mind works instead of shunning you, they could have found ways to accommodate for your needs. They would have kept a talented mage and an intelligent, compassionate First." A soft smile spread across his lips. "But, alas, the Inquisition would have lost out on a capable leader. And we on a valuable friend."

"You belong with us," Iron Bull said with a matter-of-fact nod, "not prancing around in a forest in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of assholes who hate fun."

"They would have been more fun if they pranced," Estraven sniffled weakly.

Cole's sleeve gently dabbed at the tears on her cheeks, and she turned to look up at him. "You're not a burden. Nobody thinks you are." His hand returned to grasp hers. _"A smile always ready, even when she isn't. Safe, comforting, familiar like the Fade, but still keeping me calm. Making me real."_

She raised an eyebrow. "Whose mind is that coming out of?"

He tilted his head and blinked. "Mine."

"Kid, you might want to wait to make her blush until we're out of the Fade," Bull suggested. The illusionary landscape around them was beginning to melt away, trees and aravels and elves fading into the air.

"I already make her blush in the Fade a lot."

Estraven put her hands in front of her face. _"Cole."_

"Sorry."

Clan Lavellan's camp had faded, but one fixture remained: the small, weeping elf child with her face buried in her hands. Estraven's mouth twisted as she wrung her hands. "...how do I make it go away?"

Alistair, who had been quiet until that point, looked alarmed. "Make it go away? You realize you're talking about a little girl and not a Fade monster, right?"

"It's only _me_ ," the Inquisitor shot back. "We need to get by and go that way. See the path?" She raised an arm and pointed.

"Estraven," Hawke said gently, choosing her words with a deliberate slowness, "I don't think you'd be so dismissive about another upset child."

"Well, no, of course not, but--"

"Why is it okay to talk to yourself like that?" Hawke asked, her stare piercing and pointed.

Estraven shifted uncomfortably. "It's not even real," she mumbled as she looked at the ground.

"She's real." Cole's voice was unusually determined and firm. "She's part of you, and she thinks you hate her. She thinks you've hated her all this time." His eyes drifted toward the girl, full of sadness. "I can't help her. Only you can."

The tears she'd just shoved down started to rise in her throat again, the uncomfortable tightness that comes right before your voice breaks. Estraven forced herself to look at the little girl - at herself. There was an instant feeling in her gut of disgust and self-loathing, a temptation to parrot back words she'd heard thrown at herself so often. _"Stop crying. Get over it. This is embarrassing."_

She bit the words back. The girl looked up at her, the whites of her blue eyes red from crying, tears streaming down her dark, freckled cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Estraven whispered. The girl's breath caught.

Estraven kneeled before her, looking herself in the eyes. "I don't hate you." Her voice cracked and wavered, and she knew she was crying again in front of everyone, knew she would never be this vulnerable ever again in her life, and she didn't care. "I won't talk to you like that anymore. To us. We -- I was just a child. I kept telling myself the Clan was wonderful, and I was the one with the problem. But you know what?" She sniffed and wiped at her eyes again, her breaths shuddering. "How they treated me was wrong. You didn't deserve it. _I_ didn't deserve it." 

The little girl threw herself into Estraven's arms, and for a second she swore she felt a real contact there, her hands resting on the young elf's shoulders before passing through them entirely. _"Ir abelas, da'len,"_ she said, and the girl gave her a tearful smile before vanishing into thin air.

After a few moments and a lot more rubbing her tears off on her sleeves, Estraven stood up and dusted off her legs. "If we could all agree to never mention this group therapy session to anyone, I'd appreciate it," she said with a warbly, unconvincing nonchalance before continuing to walk deeper into the Fade.

### 

The Nightmare taunted each of them as they fought their way through the rocky, ever-changing landscape, and by the time it had the audacity to compare itself to Cole, Estraven's emotional overload had forged into white-hot righteous fury.

"Making me relive childhood trauma is one thing, but I'm gonna rip this thing apart bare-handed for talking to you that way," Estraven growled as she froze a rage demon solid. Bull's battleaxe connected with the demonic ice sculpture, sending it shattering into countless tiny pieces.

Cole looked visibly shaken. "I'm not like it. I'm not -- I won't take too much, I'm --"

Bull brushed demon bits off his shoulder. "Kid, demons scare me shitless and even _I_ know you're not like that."

"We're getting close!" Hawke shouted from up ahead, waving for them to follow her.

"Hawke, don't go off too far!" Alistair called, jogging after her as the Nightmare's voice rumbled in the air around them again.

"Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered?" it asked as another group of shades and demons appeared in front of the Champion. She stopped in her tracks and gripped her staff.

Estraven and Bull sprinted toward her, boots slamming into the ground. _Creators, she's surrounded. There's no way we're going to make it in time._

Lightning crackled up and down Hawke's staff, snaking up her arm as she thrust her hands outward, as if the magic was an object she was throwing physically. "I know what happened at the Western Approach. It's getting harder for you to stop yourself with blood magic. Always one step away. Do you even remember what it was like when Varric looked at you without any fear in his eyes?"

Her jaw set as her lightning leapt in violent arcs between shades, and with another fluid motion she hurled a ball of fire into the thick of them. "Merrill is going to die, just like your family." More lightning, more fire, but there were too many --

Alistair leapt beside her, sword drawn, slamming his shield into a demon that got too close. One fell, and then another, and by the time Estraven's group caught up the last of the shades had evaporated into dust.

"I could have handled it," was all Hawke said, even through her heavy breathing. Alistair frowned at her.

"Really?"

Something in Hawke snapped. "I'm not going to thank you when the whole reason we're here is because the Grey Wardens _murdered_ the Divine and we're about to go back into fighting a fortress full of Warden blood mages!" she shouted, throwing her staff on the ground.

"This again? It wasn't their fault!" Alistair sheathed his sword. "So -- so, what, then? Is blood magic only okay when _you're_ using it?" He jabbed a finger at her. "You almost destroyed Kirkwall and started the mage rebellion!"

Hawke grabbed at his collar. " _You_ spend time being a mage in Kirkwall and tell me you wouldn't resort to this just to get by!" she spat, and any traces of the sweet fairy tale princess were gone, replaced by a deep-seated rage and pain. "But it's not even like that matters to the Wardens! I learned this voluntarily to protect the people I love - you didn't give my father that choice! You _forced_ this on him, and you're fucking turning to it again just to save yourselves! You're endangering more people now than I ever did!"

"Stop it!" Estraven yelled, yanking Hawke's hands off Alistair and shoving herself between them. "This isn't the time! Scream at each other all you want when we get back to Adamant, but we need to actually _get_ back first!"

It was then she noticed a dull prodding on her arm, increasing in frequency. Estraven looked over to see Bull staring into the distance and urgently poking her. Her eyes followed the line of his and her heart nearly stopped.

There was the rift they'd emerged from, glowing green like a murky beacon. And there, situated directly in front of their escape route, was the largest and most horrific-looking creature Estraven had ever seen.

The shape was vaguely spiderlike, if spiders were covered in extra twitching eyes set deep into their flesh and had several enormous jaws. And if they were larger than buildings. Closer to the ground was a much smaller creature that could similarly be described as "vaguely humanoid", if humans had tentacles growing out of their heads and sharp, bone-like appendages protruding from their backs. 

Estraven rapidly reconsidered her earlier bravado about tearing it apart with her bare hands.

"Suggestions?" she squeaked out, as the creatures turned their focus toward the party.

Hawke wordlessly pointed above them. The glowing, radiant golden figure of the Divine's soul (or the wayward spirit, or the helpful group hallucination) floated in the sky overhead, moving with purpose toward the Nightmare. "If you would, please tell Leliana," she said without a hint of fear in her voice, "I am sorry. I failed you, too."

Her body exploded into a shower of dazzling light, and the gigantic spider monster let out an unholy screech as it toppled over, falling out of sight.

The humanoid demon, however, just looked angry.

"I can fight _that_!" Bull roared as he charged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focused mostly on Estraven's development because... well, she's the new thing I can write about for you, you know? We already know quite a lot about the backstories of the other characters, and they get personal quests to flesh them out more, so I wanted to take the opportunity to give her some character growth as well. I also wanted to change things up from how they were presented in the game a bit more, because I don't think a lot of stuff that plays well translates well into prose writing. Besides, we're already all played the game and it's fun to imagine new possibilities!
> 
> This will probably be the last action-y chapter for a while - I'm not a fan of writing action and I like focusing on character interactions more. Next up is the big decision at Adamant and exploring the aftermath of what happened in the Fade (including who stayed behind). Thank you for continuing to read this!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Adamant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - the past month and a half have been slightly hellish and I'm only just now getting to sit down and write again. This is way shorter than I'd like it to be, but I wanted to make sure I posted something sooner rather than later. I hope it's still okay T_T

"Where's Hawke?"

Someone else had to answer.

Estraven's eyes squeezed tight, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs as her hands trembled uncontrollably. Less than five minutes ago, she'd been in the Fade, _physically_ , fighting for her life. Less than five minutes ago, Hawke had still been alive.

Someone else had to answer Varric.

_"Where's Hawke?"_ he repeated, his tone pressing.

"Say goodbye to Varric for me," Hawke had said, a weak smile on her face.

The elf pressed a hand to cover her mouth. No one else moved to speak. She couldn't look at Varric. Couldn't bear to see the expression on his face.

"She's gone," Estraven rasped through her fingers as she stared at the ground. "She saved us. She -- she wanted me to tell you goodbye."

There was a silence so heavy it fell on her shoulders like an iron weight, and she still couldn't bring herself to look away from the cracks in the stone beneath her feet.

"Well," was all Varric said before Estraven heard the sound of him walking away.

### 

That night was the first time Solas raised his voice at her.

"After all they've done, after _everything_ the Wardens did, you ask them to _join_ us?" he snapped, and the intensity of his glare made her want to wither away into nothing. She dug her boot toe into the red sand and tried very, very hard not to cry.

"I didn't -- I couldn't just send them away. Solas, they made mistakes, I know that, but --"

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Inquisitor, accidentally pouring salt instead of sugar into your tea is a 'mistake'. Attempting to raise an army of demons through blood sacrifice is something else _entirely_."

Her fists clenched as she looked up at him. "Should I have made sure Hawke's brother was exiled, then? And Blackwall?" Creators, she wanted to scream at him. It was too much. _Everything_ was too much. The Fade, Hawke, the look on Cole's face when she'd asked the Wardens to help the Inquisition. The way Solas had just sighed at her like a disappointed parent.

"Hawke died so Alistair and I could escape, because even _she_ believed the Wardens weren't irredeemable. I wasn't going to let her die for nothing, or condemn the only family she had left to a life of exile!" Estraven knew her voice was too loud, and the others in the camp could hear her, but somehow, she didn't care. Let them hear. If she got one more dirty look today she was going to put someone's eye out with her staff.

She ran a hand through her hair in agitation, pacing in small, quick steps to try to calm down. "You know, I never wanted to be the Inquisitor, but the fact is that I am. All of you can hate me for the choices I make as much as you want, but you're not the ones in this fucking position having to make them at all." Shit, she was crying again. Weepy, angry tears. She furiously wiped them off on the back of her glove. " _Fenedhis._ We can talk about this when we get home. Now isn't the time."

Estraven turned on her heel and walked toward her tent, ignoring the stares from her companions as she passed by. As soon as the flap of her tent fell shut behind her, she practically flung herself face-down onto her bedroll.

Solas, Varric, and Cole meant the world to her and, currently, all of them were pissed off at her beyond measure. As they marched out of Adamant, Iron Bull had given her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"For what it's worth, boss, I think you made the right call," he'd said quietly, his voice carrying a somberness she hadn't heard before. He held her left hand as they walked, but her right felt achingly empty.

Her fingers dug into her pillow as she pressed it against her face to muffle a sob.

### 

The journey back to Skyhold was quiet. Everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own thoughts about what had happened at Adamant to talk to each other. It made Estraven want to scream.

So she did.

Grabbing her pillow, she crept out of her tent during the night and snuck off toward the outskirts of their camp. Her breath hung in the air in shallow puffs as she stepped lightly across the surface of the snow. When she figured she was a suitable distance away from camp, she slammed her face into her pillow and screamed as hard as she could.

She screamed until she felt dizzy and her knees shook, and then flopped down to sit in the snow, sucking the cold air into her lungs. 

"Feel better?"

"Agh! Creators, Dorian, I could've --" Estraven gasped, straightening herself up and hiding the pillow behind her back, "I -- I could've…! I could've... frostbolted you! Or something!"

Dorian smirked as he regarded her with folded arms. "Not before you shouted at me some, I presume."

Her shoulders sagged. "It's been a rough week," she said quietly.

The Tevinter mage took a seat in the snow next to her, prompting her to lower herself back down beside him. With a snap of his fingers, a warm and gentle fire sprouted in his palm, and he let it hang in the air between them. "Would you like to talk about it? To me, I mean. Although I wouldn't want to make the pillow jealous."

"I've barely even _seen_ Cole since we left Adamant, and whenever I have, he looks like he's two steps away from bursting into tears. Solas won't even make eye contact with me. Also, I think I'm at least partially responsible for Varric's best friend dying."

Dorian exhaled. "That _is_ a rough week."

Estraven nodded.

"I can't help but find it endearing that you went into the Fade physically and had to make a choice impacting all of Thedas, and yet here you are, only worried about what your friends think of you," he mused.

The elf traced lines in the snow with her fingers. "I've never really had friends before. It'd be a shame to lose them already."

"Well," Dorian said, "part of having friends - good friends, anyway - is communicating. Have you tried speaking to Cole? Or Varric?"

Estraven bit her lip. "I didn't think they'd want to talk to me."

"I think what they want _most_ is to talk to you. Especially Cole. The poor thing's been sitting outside your tent at night, you know." He cast a sideways glance at her. "I suspect he misses sharing it with you."

She blushed. "Oh."

"Talk to him. And Solas, and Varric. And anyone else you want to, I suppose, but maybe start with them." Dorian smiled, one that was soft and kind. "You know, we're all here because of you. If anybody really didn't have faith in you or the choices you make, they'd just leave. I'm sure there are other flighty elf mages out there to spend time with. But they adore you." With that, he stood up and brushed snow off his trousers, extending a hand to help Estraven up. "And I happen to think you're not so bad, either." She took it.

"Thank you, Dorian," Estraven said with a laugh as she squeezed his hand and released it. He nonchalantly waved a hand at her, and the ball of flame he'd conjured earlier dissipated.

"Don't let it go to your head." He turned his head to look at a nearby bush. "Now, I'll leave you and the young man hiding poorly behind that shrub to hug it out."

Cole's muffled squeak of surprise sent several birds flying out of the bushes.

Estraven couldn't help but laugh as Cole stumbled over himself as he exited his hiding spot, and Dorian chuckled quietly as he walked back to camp.

"Hi," Estraven greeted.

"Hello," Cole replied, clutching his hat in his hands.

"Can I hug you?"

"Yes."

So she did.

### 

"We can ask Solas for advice when we get back to Skyhold. I'm sure he'll have some ideas that don't involve blood magic."

Cole nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor of the tent.

"Cole," Estraven said quietly. His gaze snapped up.

"Yes?"

She took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it gently. "We'll figure something out. I promise. I'll do anything I can to keep you safe." Her calloused thumb swiped across his pale skin. "Just… until we _do_ figure out a solution, _please_ maybe listen to me about not following me into blood mage-infested fortresses?"

He hung his head, looking so much like a scolded puppy Estraven could hardly bear it. "I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around him again, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm pretty sure the Fade made you feel bad enough without me rubbing it in." She paused. " _Fuck_ the Fade."

Cole made a strangled noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "You can't tell Solas I said that," she warned.

He shook his head. "I won't. I keep everyone's secrets."

"That's why you told everyone about Blackwall's crush on Josephine, right?"

"...the important ones," he added.

Estraven laughed and realized she wanted to kiss him very badly and settled for giving him another squeeze before pulling away.

"I missed you, I think," Cole said. "When you were gone. Going to Adamant. You… keep me here. You help make me feel real. Like I'm myself. You, and Solas, and Varric. Even Vivienne." He shuddered. "I didn't like being alone at Skyhold. I didn't want to forget myself. It felt like I would."

The elf's dark brows furrowed. "I… I can't say I'm not flattered, but that feeling should come from you. Not from anyone else. I mean, we can help, but it's no good for you to have to rely on us, you know?" She sighed and began unlacing her boots. "Argh, I'm shit at explaining. I don't want you to think you _can't_ rely on us, because we all fucking love you and I'm fairly certain any of us would take an arrow to the face for you. Probably not Vivienne, but she'd at least freeze the guy who shot the arrow." Estraven placed her shoes gently by the entrance of the tent. "Maybe once we figure out what to do to help you, you won't feel like that so much."

Cole nodded, his fingertips tracing the lines in the leather on his trousers. "I also missed talking to you. And the hugging." He tilted his head and frowned. "I tried to hug Sera the other day, but she didn't like it."

"Oh, Creators."

"Solas isn't very good at it either."

"No, he's too bony." Estraven shrugged out of her leather coat and rolled it up into a makeshift pillow, snuggling down on top of her bedroll. "You should try Bull next. He gives great hugs. Don't do it when he's drinking, though -- almost snapped me in half the other night."

Cole laid down beside her - they both knew perfectly well he had no intention of sleeping, but this was a much more comfortable arrangement than him sitting in the corner of the tent and staring at her for the next eight hours.

"Cole?" Estraven asked quietly, turning her head to look at him. He blinked at her from beneath his curtain of messy blonde hair, waiting patiently for her to continue. "I'm sorry about Adamant. I know you weren't happy with my decision about the Wardens, but… I hope it doesn't, um, mess things up."

He thought for a moment before memories came tumbling out of his mouth like water. _"I'm too far gone. I'll hurt someone -- Merrill, Varric, Carver. Tired. So tired. No more running. Let them rebuild. Give them another chance without me. I can see dad again."_ He sucked in a breath. "Hawke believed in you and Alistair, that you could make things right. I… I don't know if I believe in the Wardens, but I believe in you."

"Thank you, I think," Estraven sighed, closing her eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing Dorian is really fun and I think I need to do it more in the future


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's still so much Estraven has to do to prepare to save the world - behead her enemies, go to dress fittings, and get a magical amulet for the spirit she has a massive crush on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another light and fluffy chapter - I wanted to start Cole's personal quest in this one but it didn't quite work tonally, so that'll be coming next. Please enjoy!

Estraven was not often the one who called for war room meetings at Skyhold - in fact, she was _never_ the one who called for them - which was why her urgent summons after they returned from the Western Approach took the Inquisition's advisors by surprise.

"You did well at Adamant, Inquisitor," Cullen said with a polite nod as the elf burst into the war room. "Now we have to turn our attention to the next part of Corypheus's plan."

"Huh?" She looked up at the commander with a puzzled expression on her face.

Cullen paused. "Uh, the, er, assassination plot. On Empress Celene. That's… that's why you called us here, isn't it?"

"Oh, your shem political stuff?" She grimaced and shook her head. "No. I need your help with something more important."

Leliana looked amused as Cullen, admirably, tried his hardest to maintain his composure. "Something to do with your friend Cole, I assume," she said, her tone playful.

Estraven nodded as she folded her arms and looked across the table at the trio of advisors. "We need to figure out how to prevent blood mages from turning Cole against us. Solas mentioned a particular kind of amulet?"

Josephine smiled softly as she looked up from her parchment board. "He stopped by to speak to me about it earlier, Inquisitor. These amulets Solas mentioned are Rivaini. I've already sent word out to my contacts about acquiring one for Cole."

"Creators, I could kiss you right now."

"It would be polite to at least take me out for dinner first, Madam Lavellan," Josephine said with a grin, scribbling something down on her parchment. "I should hear word back within a few days. You'll be alerted as soon as I do."

A beaming smile spread across Estraven's face as she clapped her hands together. "Fantastic. Excellent work. That's all. I'll leave you to the rest of your evening!"

"The assassination attempt?" Cullen spluttered weakly, but the Inquisitor was already gone.

### 

The throne in the center of Skyhold was too big for Estraven. And the spikes emerging from the sides of it weren't exactly welcoming. Every time she sat in it she felt more silly than intimidating - a tiny elf trying her hardest to look tough.

More than she hated the throne, she hated judgements themselves. There was no way to tell what the "right" course of action was, and while killing had become a regular part of her life for the past year, the idea of public executions made her stomach turn. There was something sickly intimate about a good old-fashioned one-on-one murder, and it was never an option she'd even considered for anyone brought to Skyhold to be judged.

Until Livius Erimond was brought before the throne, and an awful pit of disgusting satisfaction uncoiled in her stomach.

"I'm killing you," Estraven said, tenting her fingertips. "I'm sure you're not going to be fussed about it, but honestly, you're too dangerous to keep in prison, and I'm not letting you get within two feet of another Grey Warden." She crossed her long legs and her fingertips shook almost imperceptibly. "Death feels too merciful, but I have no interest in sinking to your level of depravity just for the sake of revenge, no matter how much you might deserve it."

_Stop. You're getting too emotional again._ The Inquisitor rose and smoothed out the fabric of her tunic. "I'd like to get this over with immediately, Josephine," she said, her voice flat, and walked outside, trying desperately to wipe the sweat from her palms off on her robes.

She'd held a sword twice before, maybe, and one of those times was when Cassandra made her lift up the funny-looking big one at Skyhold in what seemed to be a significant shemlen gesture of authority. Estraven really hoped they wouldn't make her use the same sword again.

Of course, Cullen handed her the funny-looking sword that seemed to be the entire length of her body. She scowled.

"Is there a reason why I can't use magic for this?" she asked the commander under her breath, trying to ignore the crowd that had gathered around the wooden platform they stood on. "Turning him into an ice statue has way less cleanup involved than stabbing."

Cullen blanched. "Andraste's sake, Inquisitor, you're not supposed to just _stab_ him to death."

Estraven looked at the blade in her hands. "What?"

"The idea is to behead them," Cullen said, his voice low as his eyes kept flickering towards the guards marching Erimond toward them.

"What?! By the Dread Wolf, that's even worse!" she hissed. "Cullen, I can barely even hold this with both hands. How am I supposed to swing hard enough to sever someone's head _neatly?_ "

Cullen looked down at the sword, and then back up to Estraven. "I hadn't thought about this," he admitted.

"Look, the guards are almost here with him. Can you just do it?"

"You're already up here holding the sword! It'll be strange if we suddenly switch!" Cullen rubbed his face with his hands. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Just -- just go stand over there and look regal or whatever it is you do," Estraven mumbled, attempting to stand tall and look in charge as Erimond kneeled before her.

Livius Erimond's execution was often mentioned in stories about Inquisitor Lavellan - about how the gentle-hearted mage froze him solid before shattering him to pieces with her sword, so that even after the atrocities he had committed, he would still die painlessly and swiftly. They called her a merciful, caring soul.

Having squeamishness and the inability to swing a sword mistaken for deliberate mercy and kindness wasn't the _worst_ misunderstanding, and so Estraven chose to say nothing about it.

### 

Estraven planned on putting everything on hold until Josephine acquired the amulet Cole needed. It was a good opportunity for the members of the Inquisition to get some well-deserved and sorely needed relaxation. 

The problem was that after three days of doing nothing in Skyhold, relaxation was starting to get boring. Cole was still skittish and withdrawn (not that anyone could blame him, as he clearly had a lot on his mind), Solas only wanted to talk about going into the Fade, and Varric... didn't seem in a mood to goof around.

She'd taken to exploring every corner of Skyhold she could access, enlisting Sera's help to pick locked doors and Bull's assistance getting lifted to high places. Scuttling around the ramparts and clambering across the rooftops made her strangely nostalgic for home, until she crashed through a weak patch in a ceiling and landed on Cullen's desk, at which point the Inquisitor was exiled to the Skyhold courtyard.

Leliana knocked at the base of the tree Estraven had started napping in. The elf cracked one blue eye open, staring down at Leliana and Josephine, who were standing next to a horse and cart and armed with frightening, mischievous smirks.

"Is everything okay?"

Leliana jerked her head towards the carriage. "Get in, Inquisitor, we're going shopping."

### 

Val Royeaux was beautiful and terrifying. It was impossible to keep track of that many sights and sounds and smells, but Estraven always wanted to try anyway. The entire city seemed to sparkle and shift even as they walked through it. She stuck as close to Leliana and Josephine as she could.

"We have invitations arranged for the ball," Josephine explained as they moved, gesturing as if she had her parchment board and pen in her hands before remembering they were still at Skyhold. "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons has extended an offer for you to attend as a guest of his."

The look of panic that swept across Estraven's face made Leliana chuckle. "Not to worry, Inquisitor - you won't be going alone. The rest of us will be there with you."

"Thank the Creators," Estraven breathed. "Do I still have to do the, uh, the game? The one all the fancy shemlen talk about?" She tilted her head. "How do you play?"

Josephine covered her mouth with a hand and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply as she tried her best not to think about the disaster that was going to be introducing a socially inept elf apostate to the Orlesian court. Leliana just smiled.

"Part of that's why we're here. You have to look the part if you're going to play it convincingly, yes?" she said, guiding them into a small, unassuming-looking tailor's shop off the main street. A bell chimed softly as they stepped through the door. "Most of the others have a standard dress uniform to wear, but you're _the_ Inquisitor! You have to look regal and elegant, both authoritative and approachable at once."

"That's… a lot of things. I only just got used to combing my hair every day," Estraven said quietly as her eyes darted around the shop. Josephine approached the counter and began chatting amicably with the older woman behind it.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of fashion," Leliana continued, and her eyes held a joyful shimmer Estraven hadn't seen before. "A good outfit can do all that work _for_ you."

The tailor ushered Estraven onto a small wooden stool and began holding measuring tape against her arms and writing down the corresponding numbers onto a sheet of parchment. The whole process was bizarrely touchy, but neither Leliana or Josephine seemed fussed about it. "Um," the elf said, trying to distract herself from the strange human woman wrapping the tape around her chest, "if… if something at the ball goes wrong, though --"

"It will," Josephine said with a nod.

"So wouldn't it be better for me to be in my armor, then? And the others, too?"

"Weapons aren't allowed, either, but that's hardly going to be a problem. Not to worry," Leliana said, glancing from the tailor back to Estraven. "We can talk about this more back home, but rest assured, it won't be an issue." Her smile widened. "Cole will be safe."

Estraven coughed, earning a glare from the tailor, and she straightened up again. "Well -- well, good! It's only natural for me to be worried, yeah?" she stammered.

"For the record, I happen to think you make an adorable pair," Josephine chirped.

"We're not a pair yet," Estraven said, breathing a sigh of relief as the older woman moved her measuring tape down to her legs. "I told him I didn't want him to -- to, uh… _court_ me unless _he_ wanted to." She pursed her lips. "So… nothing on that front has happened. Cole has bigger problems to worry about right now. I just want to be there to support him."

Leliana nodded. "That's a wise decision. Forgive Josie and I for teasing you -- she's a big softie for romance."

Josephine turned. "Are you implying you're not?!"

The redhead artfully dodged the question and began speaking to the tailor. "The design should be functional but still eye-catching. Try to incorporate Dalish motifs into it -- anything inspired by nature while still being refined enough for court is ideal." She grinned at Estraven. "Let's work with blues and greens so we can show off the Inquisitor's beautiful eyes, hm?"

The blush that heated her face was overpowering, but at least it wasn't visible.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine acquires the amulet Cole needs to prevent him from being bound, but nothing ever goes simply. Estraven is terrified at the prospect of Cole becoming "normal" when she can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Quite a bit of dialogue in the first section of this is directly from the game, as I'm sure you'll notice. Patrick Weekes already did a beautiful job writing Cole's personal quest, so I didn't feel a need to reinvent anything there - but I wanted to explore the way it changes his dynamic with an autistic Inquisitor, so that's where my own stuff comes in. Please enjoy!

"Solas! Cole!" Estraven shouted, running full speed into the circular, mural-covered room Solas had taken residence in. "I have the amulet!" She held it in her hands and extended it out toward the pair, who crowded her to look at it curiously.

It was a simple looking thing, made of wood and metal, and for a moment she wondered if they'd been duped until Solas nodded approvingly. "I can charge it with the appropriate magic," he explained as he affixed it to Cole's shirt. Estraven grinned broadly at the nervous-looking blonde.

"They can't make me a monster," Cole said firmly, and Estraven nodded, squeezing his hand before backing away to allow Solas to channel his magic.

Solas closed his eyes and extended a hand out towards Cole, and Estraven could feel his magic pulsing through the air, a powerful, restrained presence that made the hair on her arms stand up. Cole didn't look phased, until the amulet sparked and he yelped, practically jumping out of his skin.

Estraven frowned. "Is it supposed to go like that?"

Varric poked his head in at the noise, and seeing the two elves staring down Cole, sighed. "Oh, come on, what are you doing to the kid?" he grumbled, stepping into the room and folding his arms.

"Nothing bad!" Estraven protested, pointing at the amulet on Cole's shirt. "We're trying to help him so blood mages can't bind him like the demons at Adamant."

"But it's not working," Cole said bitterly, clenching his fists as he stared at the ground.

"Maybe it's not working because Cole isn't actually a demon?" Varric said with a raised eyebrow.

Solas nearly whipped his head around a full 180 degrees to stare at the dwarf. "Regardless of how human Cole seems, he is still a spirit."

"Yeah, a spirit who is _strangely_ like a person."

Cole paced frantically around the room, fingers worrying the brim of his hat. " _I_ don't matter! Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow." His tone was almost pleading and desperate. Estraven felt her chest ache.

_You matter,_ she thought. 

"Focus on the amulet," Solas suggested, "tell me what you feel."

There was silence, interrupted by Cole murmuring to himself so quickly Estraven couldn't make out the words before he turned around and simply pointed toward a wall. "There. That way."

"We'll find whatever it is that's interfering and we'll work it out," Estraven told him as she touched his arm lightly. "Can you get Cullen and Leliana and look on a map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong?"

Cole looked down at her. "Will you come with me?" His gaze flickered to Solas and Varric. "All of you?" 

"Of course," Solas replied, and Cole left.

### 

It was never as simple as just… finding another amulet piece and casting a spell, or finding an object Cole had lost a long time ago, so Estraven had braced herself not to expect that, but she couldn't have expected this.

Cullen and Leliana had helped Cole figure out where the interference was coming from - Redcliffe Village. Less than an hour later, Cole, Solas, Varric, and Estraven had left Skyhold and were beelining directly for Redcliffe. The journey was short and mostly quiet, with Cole focusing intently on leading them and Estraven trying to ignore the anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

They followed Cole through Redcliffe, and when he caught sight of a completely unremarkable older man, his voice turned to ice and hatred. "You," he hissed, and moved so fast Estraven didn't even see him until he had gripped the man's brown hair in his fist, shoving him onto his knees with his knife raised in the other hand.

_"Cole!"_ Estraven, Varric, and Solas shouted at the same time, running toward him.

"You killed me!" Cole screamed at the terrified man. "You forgot! You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire and you forgot and I died in the dark!"

"Cole, stop!" Solas yelled, and it was enough to make Cole's grip on the stranger loosen. The man scrambled to his feet and bolted away as fast as his legs would carry him. Cole moved to follow.

Varric stood in his path, holding his hands out. "Just take it easy, kid."

_"He killed me!"_ Cole yelled, and his face was twisted into a mask of fear and hatred and rage like Estraven had never seen. She stood there feeling helpless, gripping her staff as she listened to Cole scream so harshly she could hear his throat getting raw. 

"Cole, this man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body," Solas said, approaching him slowly.

Cole turned away. His voice lowered, quivering as he spoke. "A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate." Estraven's hold on her staff tightened. "They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death." He sucked in a breath, sounding on the verge of tears. "I came through to help… and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

"If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a templar. Must've been buying lyrium," Varric said under his breath, stroking his chin.

Cole pushed past Varric. "Let me kill him," he whispered, his voice dangerously still. "I need to."

There was a moment of frantic, panicked silence where the two elves and the dwarf looked at each other.

"We cannot let Cole kill this man," Solas urged.

"I don't think anyone was suggesting that, Chuckles," Varric said. "Right, Freckles?"

They both turned to look at Estraven, who lowered her staff and tried to quickly dissipate the ice that had frosted up both of her arms. "R-Right. Of course. Can't kill him," she mumbled. "I… Cole should decide how he wants to handle this on his own."

"Freckles, Cole's idea of _handling_ this right now is stabbing a templar to death."

Estraven's breath caught in her throat. "I… I can't ask Cole to _forgive_ someone who _killed_ him."

Solas gave her a look. "For a spirit to 'work out' emotions contrary to the ones they embody… you would alter the essence of what he is."

Tears stung at her eyes. "I don't -- I don't want Cole to change," she whimpered, staring off in the direction he left. "I don't want him to -- I don't want him to become human if I can't. I don't want to be left behind." She wiped at her face with her sleeve.

Varric's expression softened. "The stuff that makes him Cole isn't going anywhere. Nobody's leaving you behind," he reassured her.

"Varric… can you go after him?" Estraven asked, and the dwarf nodded and jogged off after Cole. The Inquisitor sat on the ground and buried her face into her knees. "I'm sorry, Solas."

Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It is… fine. As long as Cole gets the help he needs. That's what's most important." He looked down at the crying elf and shifted his weight uncomfortably before reaching down to pat her on the shoulder. She looked up at him from under her curtain of black hair and sniffled.

"The things that connect you to Cole are not only there because he's a spirit," he said.

"Velvet," she said quietly, and when he raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. "It's… one of the first things we talked about having in common. We both hate the feeling of velvet. And we have problems with our senses, and staying focused, and panicking. I've never met anyone else who understood like Cole does." The tears started flowing again. "I'm selfish, but I don't want it to be gone. I can't be human. I can't even be an elf."

Solas nodded and thought for a few moments. "You are still an elf. And people like you are not as uncommon as you may think." She looked at him curiously, and he kneeled down in front of her. "Just because others may not understand doesn't mean you, or anyone like you, deserves to be treated poorly, or be thought of as less than a 'real' person." He took one of her hands in his and squeezed it. "I suspect Cole -- the human Cole -- was like you, and when the spirit of compassion became him, it kept that part of him intact. It is integral to who he is. Nothing can make it go away, nor should it."

Estraven managed a weak smile. "Thank you. Sorry. Cole's the one hurting and I can only think about myself."

Solas shook his head. "We all know you would do anything for him. You are allowed to feel uncertain about something that has the potential to alter your relationship."

"When did you start giving out relationship advice?" Estraven teased. He laughed and stood up, pulling her up by her hand.

"Just now, apparently. Come -- let's give Cole and Varric some space and head back to Skyhold. We can meet them there. I'm certain they have a lot to talk about."

She nodded and wiped away the last of the tears on her face, and the two walked out of Redcliffe hand in hand.

### 

Estraven kept her distance for a few days. For the most part, it wasn't intentional - she and the advisors had been spending more time than any of them would have liked to in the war room, trying to form the best strategy for dealing with the rapidly-approaching ball at the Winter Palace. But there was a small piece of her that couldn't shake the fear that Cole wouldn't want to be around her anymore, that he'd come to see her for what she really was - a scared little elf who had something incurably, unfixably wrong with her brain.

"That's not what you really are," Cole said, and Estraven's shriek of surprise was so loud it sent a flock of birds flying off her balcony.

"Cole!"

"I'm sorry!" he babbled from the doorway to her room, eyes wide. A tray of baked goods from the kitchen shook in his hands. "I didn't mean to scare you! I -- I knocked!"

Estraven put a hand to her chest and steadied her breathing, waving at him to come in before stepping inside. "I'm sorry, I was thinking so hard I didn't even hear you." Cole nudged the door closed behind him with his foot before setting the tray down on her desk. The Inquisitor's mouth turned upward into a small smile - he'd brought a pot of tea and an entire jar of honey along too.

"You do tend to do that a lot," he said, taking a seat beside her. "Thinking hard. Your mind never shuts off. Not even when you sleep." He reached out to pour her a cup of tea.

"What's all this for?" Estraven asked, gesturing at the tray.

Cole looked at her curiously from beneath the brim of his hat. "I missed you," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Estraven practically melted.

She took the cup from him and blew on the tea. "Well. Um. That's… that's fine, then," she mumbled before taking a sip. He'd already added honey for her. And he still brought the jar anyway.

It took a remarkable amount of self-control for her not to beg him to marry her right then and there.

"How are you feeling lately?" she asked, leaning back a bit in her chair. "I can imagine the past few days have been… a change."

Cole frowned a little, his brows furrowing as he stared at a spot on her desk. "Yes. It's -- it's hard. The servants remember me now. People can see me."

"Terrible, isn't it?"

"It's different." He tugged at his sleeves. "Before, I -- I didn't have to try to make people forget. Everyone forgot. They only remembered if I let them. Now, it's -- it's the opposite."

"It's scary thinking about how you're real even when people aren't talking to you," Estraven said, drinking more of her tea. "The fact that you exist in people's minds even when you're not directly in front of them."

"Yes!" Cole said with a nod. "Yes. That's it. But I feel like… I feel like I can listen more, too, because I'm more real. Maybe it can let me help more." He bit his lip. "I don't know."

Estraven reached out to lightly touch his shoulder. "Hey. You've been through a lot. You don't have to instantly start worrying about how this is going to affect other people -- take time to sort out what this all means for you. I know helping people out is kind of your thing, but your happiness is important." She smiled. "I mean, you being happy helps _me_ , so there's that."

Cole considered this, tapping his leg as he thought while Estraven finished her cup of tea and poured a new one. "You weren't happy after we went to Redcliffe. You were, but part of you… wasn't. A complicated feeling." He looked at her, tilting his head. "You were afraid. That I would leave you behind."

The elf stared into her teacup instead of responding, feeling her cheeks burn with shame. _"Will he get angry like the others when I can't stand the noise? Will I be too wrong, too broken?"_ he said, abruptly reaching out to touch her arm the way she had done to him so many times.

"You think it was our inhumanity that connected us, but it's not," he said firmly, and she could only blink at him. "It's more than that. I -- It's hard to explain, and I'm not sure I can say things right. But you understand, and I'm still me, and you're still you, and I understand, too."

Estraven couldn't help but laugh, putting her teacup on her desk and reaching out to pull him into a hug. "You're right. I didn't need to be worried. You're still weirder than I'll ever be."

He rested his chin on top of her head and wrapped his arms around her. "I like being with you. I don't think that could change." His eyes fluttered closed.

She pressed her face against his chest and mumbled something. "I can't hear you," Cole said gently, and Estraven mumbled again, only slightly louder, and this cycle repeated four times before she practically shouted, "Do you want to go on a date?!"

Cole blinked at her and then laughed. Actually laughed. A soft, almost tentative noise, clearly from someone unused to making it, and if Estraven could have fallen any more in love with him she would have. "Yes. I… I think that would be fun. With you." He smiled down at her. "I want to. For me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ultimate slow burn fic and honestly I JUST WANT TO MAKE THEM KISS WILDLY AND BE DONE WITH IT
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. This chapter is also a super personal one for me (I say that like this entire fic isn't embarrassingly self-indulgent) because my initial reaction to Cole's personal quest was intense fear. I related to him so much and I was honestly terrified that by choosing to make him more "human", I would be losing my connection to this amazing autistic character. But I absolutely love how it was written in Inquisition: Cole is still very autistic, and humanity is never equated with normalcy, and his spirit path is also beautiful and healing. It's probably some of my favorite writing in the Dragon Age series to date! 
> 
> ANYWAY, coming up: Val Royeaux date! Halamshiral! MAYBE FINALLY SMOOCHING?!
> 
> PS: Did you know I'm writing a collection of side-stories in this timeline? [Right here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3801754) The most recent one was from Cole's POV and I really enjoyed writing it, so please give it a read if you'd like!  
> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date, a first kiss, and soon to come: possibly a first dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY... the smooches are upon us

Choosing an ideal date spot for two people who disliked crowds and noise was… difficult, especially in Val Royeaux. The Inquisition had arranged to stay in the city for a few days prior to Empress Celene's ball. Leliana's spies were everywhere, eyes and ears on alert for any suspicious activity, although every activity seemed suspicious in Orlais.

Estraven had been busy - there were strategy meetings with Cullen, etiquette lessons with Josephine and Leliana, and… dress fittings. She found it all infuriating. Shem politics were utter nonsense, and she hated being forced to play along with their fake smiles and empty words. Corypheus would pay for this.

The clothes were very pretty, though, so it wasn't all horrible.

She knocked on the door to Cole and Solas's shared room in the estate the Inquisition was staying in. Fancy. Marble floors. Everything seemed like it would shatter if she even thought about touching it. She needed to get out.

The door opened. "Yes?" Cole said, blinking down at her.

"Can we go on that date now?"

"Yes."

### 

Restaurants were good date places, right? Except Cole didn't eat, and Estraven's mere suggestion caused him to make a face and the most adorably petulant, quiet "bleghh" noise she'd ever heard. Going to see a play was out, too, because it seemed like every play in Val Royeaux was about politics and Estraven didn't trust herself to not start screaming in the middle of the theater.

So they just ended up walking through the city, hand in hand, wandering aimlessly until they found a nice, quiet garden to sit in.

"People keep looking," Cole said, dipping his fingertips into the stone water fountain, "I forget they can see me now. I'm not sure I like it."

"The hat makes you stand out." Estraven kicked off her boots and rolled up her pant legs and swung her legs around to rest in the fountain. Elsewhere in the city, Josephine sprouted several new grey hairs without knowing why. "A lot."

"I like my hat." He pouted.

Estraven laughed. "I like it too! I'm just saying it doesn't exactly make you blend in with a crowd." She swished her dark, slender legs through the cool water. "We should get you a fancy new hat for the ball."

Cole touched the worn cloth brim of his hat. "Can I still keep this one?"

"Of course." Estraven's eyes glimmered. "Can I… can I try it on?"

Cole hesitated for a moment before gently lifting it off his head and placing it onto hers. It promptly slid down half her face and eclipsed everything but her mouth. She raised a hand to steady the hat, trying to push the brim up to her forehead and peering out at him from underneath it. His pale blond hair clung to the sides of his head. She always forgot how long it was.

Her fingers traced the edges of the cloth. Soft and worn, faithful and comforting. It smelled like him - which was probably weird, she realized, but he smelled nice. Not _like_ anything except himself. Skin and the barest hint of something otherworldly.

"It looks nice on you," Cole said, looking at her curiously. "You're happy in it." A smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "I -- I still want to keep it, though."

Estraven laughed, and the hat slipped back down her face again, blocking her vision. "That's fine. You look better in it than I d-- oh."

As she adjusted the brim again and looked up, Cole's face came into view. Closer to her than he had been before. Much closer. He looked… confused.

"Um," she said.

"My -- my heart started beating really fast. And I wanted to kiss you." His hand slowly reached up to touch the side of her face. He tilted his head. "Can I -- can I do that? Can I kiss you?"

She nodded breathlessly, staring at him wide-eyed. Cold water around her shins. The warmth of the sun on her back. Distant sounds of the city in the background, of birds singing in the garden. The scent of Cole's skin all around her. His hand on her cheek.

The softness of his lips against hers.

And then Estraven threw her arms around him too fast and their noses bumped and teeth clacked and they both went tumbling back into the fountain with a shriek, and Cole sat up in the water and laughed, brightly, loudly, and he was so beautiful it made her chest ache.

She kissed him again while they both sat there soaking wet and giggling helplessly.

"What in the -- hey! This is private property!" a man with a thick Orlesian accent screamed at them, and the moment was thoroughly ruined.

"Fuck!" Estraven hissed, grabbing Cole's hand and yanking him to his feet. They set off dashing for one of the marble walls, which probably should have been the thing that clued them into this being a private garden. The shem was chasing them.

Estraven pointed to a large tree close to the wall. "There!" It was easy for her to scale trees quickly, with almost no effort, and she helped Cole up after her, and they leapt over the wall and directly into a dirt flowerbed as the Orlesian's angry shouts lingered behind them.

"Well," Estraven panted as they got to their feet, " _I_ certainly had a fun time today. We should do this again."

Leliana knew better than to ask questions when they showed up at the rented estate soaking wet, barefoot, and covered in dirt and stray flower petals with enormous smiles on their faces. Josephine put a hand to her face and realized she was going to have to present them to court tomorrow and silently prayed while heading for the kitchen to pour herself a glass of Antivan red.

### 

The day of the ball was nothing short of hectic. Estraven sat in on a strategy meeting while Leliana tried her best to comb through her wild hair. Josephine had barely looked up from the parchment board in her hands. "You're _sure_ Sera can't sneak any bees into the Winter Palace?" she asked, rubbing her forehead.

"I don't think anyone's willing to make that promise," Leliana said.

Poor Josephine was practically a ball of anxiety. "Right. Of course." She sighed. "Inquisitor, to brief you again on the political situation - Ambassador Briala will be in attendance as well. Rumor has it she and Celene were lovers." She continued scribbling on her parchment. "Briala is also an elf, and will be participating in the peace talks."

Estraven nodded and immediately regretted doing so as the comb caught on a knot in her hair and tugged. With a whimper and a 'tsk' from Leliana, she sat still again. "It sounds like I should talk to Briala, then."

"Talk to _everyone_ ," Leliana reminded her gently, "especially the servants. Most of the servants in the palace are elves - they might be more willing to speak with you."

Vivienne whirled into the room from the doorway, a sparkling vision in a beautiful white and silver gown with an elaborate headdress. "And if _anyone_ calls you a servant or a 'knife-ear', you be sure to tell me, darling," she said with a wicked smile, and Estraven's mind flashed back to the powerful mage freezing a man solid in front of her. She couldn't help but grin.

"I will."

"Leliana, dear, what are you doing with the Inquisitor's hair?" Vivienne sighed, plucking the comb gently from Leliana's hands. "You start from the ends and work your way up when you brush. We don't want to rip out the Inquisitor's beautiful hair, do we?"

Estraven was careful not to move. "I don't know. You make being bald look wonderful."

Vivienne smiled. "You can shave your head another day, darling. For now, let's work with what we have."

### 

The dress made for Estraven couldn't have been more perfect. The torso was slim-fitting and flattering without being uncomfortably tight, and the bottom of the gown was flowy, soft, and almost dreamlike. The entire thing was done in jewel-toned blues and greens, with stitched designs that mirrored the patterns of her vallaslin.

But, more importantly, it was practical. The floor length disguised the fact that Estraven was wearing her boots instead of fancy Orlesian slippers. Leliana pointed out the hidden loops on the sides of the dress that would allow her to swiftly gather and hook the long skirt material to her waist, allowing for a shorter dress and ease of mobility. It even had hidden pockets, which delighted her to no end.

Of course, being a mage, she didn't need concealed weapons. She _was_ a concealed weapon, something that provided her with an odd sense of comfort as she and Josephine stepped into the Winter Palace's courtyard.

Josephine was gorgeous all the time, but the gold and blue ballgown she wore made her look like a noble princess. She was also better than Estraven at hiding her nerves, which helped.

"The others are already inside -- ah, this man coming toward us is Duke Gaspard, the one who extended us the invitation," she whispered quickly before replacing her expression with a radiant smile directed at the masked human man approaching them. Estraven vaguely wondered how she could tell, but focused on looking happy to see the shem.

"Inquisitor Lavellan! It is a great pleasure to meet you," Duke Gaspard offered with… what might have been a smile, although the shiny golden mask made it difficult to say. "My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?"

Estraven's plastered-on, pleasant smile never left her face. "Are you prepared to walk in with an elf savage?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: the ball! Maybe dancing? Estraven and Iron Bull trying their best not to flip out and murder every snarky noble.
> 
> Sorry for another short chapter, but this felt like a natural spot to end it. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estraven fumbles her way through trying to learn the rules of The Game at Halamshiral, and sneaks around the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the delay... I've had some unfortunate health issues that meant I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted. I split the Winter Palace section into multiple chapters so I could put this up quicker and give you all an update and let you know I'm still writing. Thanks for reading!

Estraven could not have anticipated exactly how difficult feigning casual conversation would be. The best she felt toward any of the faceless Orlesian nobles in the palace was apathy, and the worst was loathing.

Leliana and Josephine had tried, multiple times, to explain the concept of The Game to her, and each time it left the elf irate because it made absolutely no sense. This was not a fun game like having archery shooting contests or playing tag. This was more along the lines of "frame someone for murder" or "destroy someone's marriage and entire sense of self-worth". It was about as close to a "game" as arson, which, incidentally, Estraven thought would be _really_ fun right about now.

People were still mingling before the official introductions to Empress Celene took place, the sound of voices bouncing off the palace walls. Estraven inelegantly snatched a goblet of wine from the first server who passed by and clung to it as she stood close to Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen.

She sipped her wine. "If one more person asks me for a drink, I'm killing them."

"Please don't," Cullen begged as he pressed a gloved hand to his forehead. 

"Or at least do it subtly," Leliana offered helpfully, smoothing the voluminous blue skirts of her gown. "Just make sure no one finds out it was y-- Commander, I'm _joking_."

It was Josephine's turn to grab a wine goblet as she prayed that maybe, possibly, the evening would go off with a minimal amount of murder. She ignored the sound of glass shattering and Sera's cackling from outside in the courtyard.

The wine went down in one gulp.

"So, alright - people are talking to each other, and then we'll go meet Empress Celene, and then… what? More talking?" Estraven asked. Her eyes never stopped darting around the room. There were a lot of people staring. She shuffled closer to Leliana.

"Dancing, most likely," Leliana said.

"You mentioned nothing about dancing."

"It… it _is_ a ball, Inquisitor," Cullen reminded her gently. "Dancing is… it goes hand in hand with that."

Estraven closed her eyes and inhaled. "Do I have to dance if I'm trying to do reconnaissance?"

Leliana smiled, a familiar gleam in her eyes. "Inquisitor, the dance floor is one of the best places to do reconnaissance. So many secrets whispered between partners during moments of close contact." Her head tilted and her smirk widened. "I imagine quite a few nobles will want to share a dance with the dashing Inquisitor."

"Wonderful," Estraven said through her teeth as Grand Duke Gaspard motioned toward her from the door to the ballroom. "I think it's time for us to go."

Her advisors followed her as she approached the duke, trying her hardest not to wither beneath the stares and too-loud comments about her ears from the nobles scattered throughout the hall. She tried to do the thing Vivienne did where her default facial expression was a combination of apathetic, sexy, and intimidating, but realized as she caught her reflection in a mirror on the wall that she just looked pissed off.

This was hard.

"You got this, boss," Iron Bull rumbled from behind her, placing a big hand on Estraven's shoulder. She patted the top of his hand gently before turning her attention to Gaspard.

"Ready, Inquisitor?" he asked from behind his mask.

"No," she said, prompting a laugh from Gaspard, who likely thought she was joking. "Lead the way."

The ballroom doors opened, revealing another sea of polished marble and gilded accents. And more people wearing masks.

The Grand Duke descended the stairs toward the center of the ballroom as yet _another_ masked man read his name from a scroll. The sea of gold and silver masks turned and, while Gaspard was ostensibly the one being introduced, they remained fixed in the direction of the two elves, the dwarf, and the qunari.

Estraven wondered if throwing up all over her own shoes qualified as a serious breach of etiquette or not.

"...Lady Inquisitor Lavellan!"

The elf snapped to attention and remembered how Leliana and Josephine had taught her to move in this dress. Don't focus on all the faceless people staring at you, just concentrate on how nice the fabric feels in your hands. One foot in front of the other.

Empress Celene scarcely looked real, the golden metal fanning out from the back of her royal blue gown making her seem more like a decorative fixture of the palace than the palace's owner. Skirts still in hand, Estraven curtseyed from across the ballroom. 

The Empress returned the gesture with a sort of half-nod, half-bow, which Estraven decided to assume was a positive acknowledgement. Still attempting to block out the crowd's frenzied murmurs, she descended the last steps and began her approach across the marble floor toward Celene.

"Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of Templars," the masked announcer continued, "purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful!"

She couldn't help but frown. Being introduced as a purger of pretty much anything wasn't giving the best first impression. "That guy writes better fiction than I do," Varric mumbled from behind her, and Estraven's frown was replaced with a barely restrained smirk.

"Renowned author Varric Tethras, head of noble House Tethras, deshyr of Kirkwall to the dwarven Merchant's Guild!"

"Ooh, _fancy_ ," Estraven whispered, prompting an annoyed grumble from the dwarf.

"The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull's Chargers… as the name might imply."

Estraven did not have to look behind her to know that Bull was the source of the scandalized-sounding swoons from several noble ladies.

"The lady Inquisitor's elven servant, Solas."

_My **what**?!_

Even as she whipped her head around to stare incredulously at the announcer, Estraven knew she was doing the wrong thing. Vivienne had told her to just smile and walk, to be the picture of dignity. A large part of The Game seemed to revolve around not letting the other players know your feelings.

Unfortunately, the Inquisitor wasn't so much an open book as she was an oversized chantry bulletin board.

"Freckles," Varric warned as he approached, "not right now. Keep walking."

"Solas isn't my _servant_ ," she said, definitely too loudly, and she wasn't sure how the elf in question could still look so peaceful when her own blood was boiling. Solas jerked his head at her as he walked, a silent plea for her to keep moving and not cause the scene she so desperately wanted to cause.

Fine. She turned back around and crossed the room the rest of the way to Empress Celene, looking up at the porcelain-skinned woman who observed the ballroom from her balcony.

It occurred to Estraven that Celene likely didn't look real because she might as well not have been. Every word, gesture, inflection was calculated and deliberate. She wore a mask, too, and Estraven was beginning to feel like she'd broken a rule of this ridiculous Game by not bringing one.

"Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day, my lady Inquisitor," Celene greeted, "tell me - how do you find Halamshiral?"

What Estraven _wanted_ to say was, "I _love_ what the shems have done with the place!", ideally spoken before lighting everyone on fire.

What Estraven _actually_ said from behind a tight-lipped smile was, "I've never seen anything like it, my lady."

"Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor." Celene smiled -- or was it a smirk? -- and added, "We look forward to watching you dance."

Because _that_ didn't sound threatening at all.

### 

There were too many things to do, and probably not enough time to do them, and Estraven didn't even know what things she _should_ be doing. As much as she wished they would, the assassin wasn't likely to noticeably, catastrophically fuck up in a way that alerted the Inquisition to their presence. 

She settled for checking in on her team first. Varric already had a group of nobles enthralled with a story, and offered the Inquisitor a reassuring wink as she passed by. She moved to waved her hand at him until the nobles turned to look in her direction, and she scowled and continued walking.

Solas was easy to spot, being one of the only other elves in the palace not carrying a serving tray. Most of the Inquisition's members weren't fussy about their attire, and had elected to wear dress uniforms instead of anything elaborate - the notable exceptions being Vivienne and Dorian, who looked better than the Empress herself.

"It's weird seeing you wear shoes," Estraven said, looking down at Solas's leather boots.

"Had I not worn them, I'm certain I would have been kicked out by now." Solas smiled. "My casual attire certainly isn't befitting of a royal ball's atmosphere."

Estraven raised an eyebrow. "You've been to royal balls before, then?"

Solas's smile didn't falter. "…in the Fade," he clarified.

"Right, figured." Estraven sighed and looked out a nearby window at the palace gardens covered in moonlight. "I can't _fucking_ believe they called you my 'servant'," she hissed. Her fists clenched. "If any of these shems treat you badly, tell me."

"And what will you do about it?" he asked, looking at her curiously, his hands clasped together.

She hadn't really considered this. "Um… something." She bit her lip. "Yell, maybe."

"And what, exactly, will that accomplish?" Solas leaned back against the wall next to the window, his gaze still fixed on her.

Estraven rubbed her forehead. "Creators, I _hate_ when you're sensible." She frowned and folded her arms, her billowy sleeves fluttering, and Solas laughed quietly. "It would make _me_ feel better."

"It would not make Josephine feel better." The gentle grin returned to Solas's lips. "But I do, however, appreciate the thought, lethallan. Now go and see what you can learn instead of attempting to ease my wounded pride."

The small elf went on her way, passing by Cassandra shooting death glares to the entire hallway and Cullen being swarmed by a throng of admirers. As she approached Iron Bull, who had made camp by one of the snack tables, she noticed something.

"Bull - where's Cole?" she asked. He looked down at her.

"You're the one shadowing him all the time," he said from behind a mouthful of candied nuts. "Boss, try some of these. We gotta teach the Skyhold servants how to make 'em." He proceeded to pick the entire delicate crystal bowl up off the table and offer it out to Estraven, completely ignoring the looks from the other partygoers.

She took one anyway, rolling it between her fingertips. "Thanks." Bull set the bowl back down with an only slightly worrying thump. "You really haven't seen him anywhere?"

Bull shrugged. "I think I saw him go out to the garden a while ago, but - I mean, considering Cole could be standing directly between us right now without either of us knowing, I'm not sure how reliable that is."

Estraven peered out the glass doors leading outside into the palace gardens. "Alright." She put the candied nut in her mouth and gasped. "Shit, these _are_ good."

"I know, right?!" The qunari laughed and gave her a gentle push on the back. "Go get some fresh air, boss."

The gardens, to the palace's credit, were stunning. The area guests were permitted to access was only a small fraction of them - an outdoor patio with a large fountain and carefully maintained plants, with benches scattered around and an ivy-covered trellis reaching up to a balcony. It overlooked the rest of the gardens, which were surprisingly vast, and Estraven allowed herself a moment to breathe in the fresh night air as she admired the view.

A noise like something splashing into water distracted her, and she turned to look to see several Orlesians casually tossing coins into the fountain. This seemed to be a fairly common practice in human cities, where they could afford to _literally_ throw money away, and Estraven was about to get cranky again when something else caught her attention on the white trellis behind the fountain.

The ivy seemed out of place, and in a building where _nothing_ was out of place, that in itself was unusual. She tried her best to make her way across the courtyard as casually as possible, standing on her tiptoes to look at the trellis.

Aha. Scuff marks on the painted wood, and the ivy coming loose in places. Someone had climbed up to access the balcony. Estraven put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot as she surveyed the garden. It wasn't too crowded, and it was dark out, but still - had no one really noticed someone climbing up a wall with no cover?

…or maybe they _had_ noticed and didn't remember.

"Dammit, Cole," she groaned, and then set to bustling her dress with the hidden loops Leliana had added. Luckily, no one noticed the elf in the dark corner hitching her skirts up around her knees and fiddling with her dress, because that would likely cause a whole other world of problems. With the fabric gathered and tied, her legs were free to climb, and she tested the first step of the trellis. It held against the wall securely.

Just as she was in the process of figuring out how to climb it without memory-altering powers at her disposal, she heard the sound of a shattering crystal bowl from indoors along with a muffled "sorry!" from Iron Bull.

She grinned and scampered up the wall of ivy while the nobles had their heads turned.

The balcony opened up, larger than Estraven had expected it to - it circled around the garden below and a door in front of her led deeper into the palace. And leading to that door was a trail of blood.

Taking slow, quiet steps, she put her ear to the door and, holding her breath, cracked it open.

Miraculously, no one jumped out to kill her, which was already better than she'd expected. She peeked inside. The room opened up into a massive library, with more of the same elegant tiled floors and marble walls, and Estraven shuffled in while closing the wooden door behind her as quietly as she could.

With the heavy door closed, the eerie silence of the library seemed to swallow everything else. Estraven moved slowly, still wincing at how loud her small footsteps seemed in the dark. Had there not been a trail of blood leading in here, and had she almost definitely not been trespassing, she would have loved to explore the shelves full of books - but this wasn't the time or place. Wringing her hands to stave off any urged to grab things off the shelves, she continued to sneak around the vast rooms.

The trail of blood seemed to end as suddenly as it had begun, but Estraven's eyes were drawn into a little side room off the corner by the dim blue glow of veilfire.

Which was weird, because why would veilfire be in a shem library?

Better investigate. For the sake of the mission. Not for her own personal curiosity, no, of course not.

The little room looked like a small, unassuming office, until Estraven's vision adjusted to the glow and she noticed several skulls on the rich wooden desk. What was more interesting than the skulls, however, was the letter placed on top of the desk, as if it had been read quickly and then discarded. She delicately picked it up and squinted in the darkness.

_Lady M,_  
I need you at my side tonight. The unpleasantness in the royal wing has convinced me there is no safety within the palace. I do not expect my cousin to employ magic, but I would hardly be surprised if he provoked another infestation; since my court enchanter is not here to assist me, I must rely entirely upon you. There is no one else I can trust.  
Celene 

'Unpleasantness' in the royal wing? Familial betrayal? Clandestine alliances?! Varric couldn't have written this better. Estraven read over the letter a few more times, trying her best to commit it to memory before putting the parchment back down and resuming her exploration, making a face at the various skull-shaped urns she passed on the way out.

The library opened up even further, and before descending a set of stairs Estraven made sure to unhook her dress from her sides, just in case a wandering guard happened to find her. It would be easier to claim she was an innocent lost elf if she didn't look so clearly combat-ready. Moonlight poured in through the tall windows, coating the bookshelves and chairs and marble floors in a pale glow.

"Hello," Cole said in her ear, and Estraven shot up into the air as if she'd been struck by lightning.

_"Cole!"_ she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as if trying to force her heart back into her ribs. "Creators, you _have_ to stop doing th--" She blinked. "What… is on your head?"

"A hat."

The thing on Cole's head was to a hat as a five course meal was to a light snack. It made his everyday hat look like a sensible choice of headgear. It was huge, and there were feathers, and Estraven was pretty sure…

She reached forward to touch the brim of the most unbelievably fancy hat in Thedas. "Are those real flowers -- is that a _live_ butterfly?"

"She's not part of the hat. She just came in from the garden." The butterfly that was not part of the hat fluttered around his head. Cole looked down at the elf with his big blue eyes. "She wanted a break from all the commotion. Like you did."

Estraven couldn't help but laugh, gently entwining her fingers with his and giving his hands a squeeze. "I'm glad I found you. I was worried about where you'd gone."

Cole shook his head - delicately, so as not to disturb his winged guest. "You always worry. It's… it's too much out there. For me. The masks and the noise and -- and the secrets." His gaze drifted down to their hands held together. "I don't know how to help any of them."

"We're helping them plenty by not letting Corypheus win. They can deal with their stupid politics on their own," Estraven grumbled a little too hastily before adding, "But it's almost heartbreakingly sweet that you still want to do more for them."

Truthfully, Estraven didn't feel anything but anger toward any of the shems in attendance at the ball, and the idea of going out of her way to help them out more wasn't exactly pleasing. But Cole still wanted to help. In the middle of foiling an assassination plot, at the center of a palace of people who would just as soon poison their drinks as they would toast them, Cole still wanted to do more.

She loved him for that. She _adored_ him for that.

As if he was noticing for the first time, Cole took a step back to look at Estraven with his head tilted. After a moment's appraisal, a gentle smile crossed his lips.

"You feel beautiful in that dress," he said, and the warmth in his voice could have lit a candle. She laughed again.

"I think most people want to hear that they look beautiful."

Cole's smile wavered. "But… that's not important. You _feel_ beautiful. It's good. It matters more than how you look." He bit his lip. "Was that… wrong to say?"

"No, no!" She waved her hands. "I'm sorry. It wasn't wrong. Just unexpected. Your way of saying it is… actually, it's much better, honestly." She looked down at her dress and gently spun in place on her toes, making the skirt fan out. "I do like it a lot. You clean up nicely too, for a shem."

His smile returned. Ostentatious hat aside, his outfit for the evening was a dark blue dress uniform that, Estraven just realized, matched the shade of her dress almost perfectly.

Damn, Leliana had _planned_ for this. "How do you feel in it?" she asked. "Because, for the record, I think you're gorgeous."

Cole looked slightly embarrassed. "I -- I feel a little silly," he whispered, "even though I like the hat. I don't think I want to wear it every day."

"No, I suspect it'd be hard to pick locks with an entire forest on your head." Estraven stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Cole's nose. "I think I have to get back to the ballroom. They'll probably notice if I've been gone for too long."

Cole nodded and gestured toward a nearby door. "That leads out to the main entrance, I think. It's faster than climbing up the trellis. And you won't ruin your dress."

"Right. After you've taken your time here to collect yourself, come by the ballroom, okay?" She squeezed his hands again. "I don't want to have to come running all the way here for you if there's trouble. You can hide in a corner with Cassandra. It'll be loads of fun." She paused and looked him up and down once more. "…maybe leave the hat in here. For -- for ease of mobility."

He pouted, but it was a pout with a hint of playfulness behind it. "Alright. Be safe."

As she opened the library door into the main hall to peer out, Cole softly called from behind her, "Estraven?"

She turned to look. The darkness meant she couldn't see the startling shade of fuschia his cheeks had become. "I -- I think you look beautiful, too."

For the first time that night, the Inquisitor smiled from ear to pointy ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've loved the companions to all go to the Winter Palace and for everyone to have gotten unique outfits, but that would have been ridiculously expensive to do in-game... but that's what the magic of fanfic is for~
> 
> More diversions from in-game events are gonna happen in this section because I'm sure it's not really fun for you all to read "and then the Inquisitor and Friends spent ten minutes trying to jump onto a tiny ledge to collect the last halla statue".


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assassination attempt stopped, a pair of lovers reconciled, and a traitorous noble slain. All in all, not a bad evening!

An assassination attempt stopped, a pair of lovers reconciled, and a traitorous noble slain. All in all, not a bad evening!

Estraven felt pretty pleased with herself as she surveyed the ballroom of the Winter Palace, where the nobles had resumed dancing and celebrating like they hadn't just watched someone murder several guards and, nearly, the Empress right before their eyes. To her delight (and to the shems' horror), Dorian and Iron Bull were dancing together, with grins on their faces and Bull's frequent laughter bouncing off the marble halls. Varric seemed to have a crowd around him all night as he effortlessly charmed the Orlesian nobility with his stories and wit, and Estraven noticed even Cassandra was cracking a smile as she listened in (even though, of course, she tried to hide it).

The Inquisitor felt… happy. Thrilled. The adrenaline from the fight in the courtyard with the Duchess was still running beneath her skin and making her tremble, but she wasn’t afraid. Not of the nobles, not of Corypheus. 

Not being afraid was strange.

The noise inside was best withstood in short bursts, so Estraven slipped outside onto an empty balcony and put her hands on the smooth, cold stone railing, inhaling the night air deeply. Her team - her _friends_ \- were inside, and they were safe, and nothing had gone horribly, gut-wrenchingly wrong. She allowed herself a last glance around to make sure she was alone before sitting on the balcony railing, swinging her legs over the edge and bracing her hands on either side of her as she looked up at the sky.

"I'm trying very hard not to scare you," Cole announced from somewhere in the courtyard behind her, and Estraven didn't even jump, only laughed. The human shuffled over and took a seat on the rail next to her, swinging his legs in unison with hers. He smiled.

"You're happy," he said. "You're not angry at yourself. You know you did a good job tonight." He breathed heavily, a sigh of relief.

Estraven nodded. "I don't really have a reason to be mad at me, right? Everything actually turned out _better_ than I thought it would, for once. Hopefully things will improve for the elves living in Orlais now that Briala and Celene are partners again." She grinned. "Also, I got to wear a pretty dress and attack a noble and I didn't even get thrown out."

Cole tilted his head. "But there's something you didn't get to do."

"What's that?"

"You didn't get to dance."

Estraven laughed and waved one of her hands at him. "What? No! Dancing is scary. Besides, I did dance - with Florianne, remember?"

Cole leaned toward her and smiled playfully. "But you think it would be fun to try dancing with me."

"Is this your way of asking me for a dance?" Estraven's forehead touched his lightly. "Because it's insufferably cute."

Cole stood up and took one of Estraven's hands in his, and the pair stood in place by the balcony. "Um," he said, "now that we're here, I — I'm not actually sure how to do this." He placed his free hand on her hip, and Estraven didn't miss how flushed his cheeks became. "Is that okay?"

"Yes. Relax. I think we're supposed to move like…" Estraven trailed off as she took small, tentative steps, attempting to lead the tall man as she moved. The music still reached them from inside, although faintly, and soon enough they settled into a rhythm that, for however stuttering and awkward it looked, they understood.

And it was boring.

"This isn't as fun as the nobles led me to believe," the elf frowned. "Iron Bull and Dorian looked like they were having a much better time."

"The Iron Bull broke a table when he tried to spin Dorian," Cole pointed out.

"Yeah, see? _Way_ more fun. We should have them teach us to dance when we get back home."

Cole smiled again, and Estraven raised an eyebrow. "I like when you call Skyhold home." He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against one another. "It's nice."

"Didn't even realize I was doing it," she admitted. "But… it's true. I feel like the Inquisition is a better clan than Lavellan ever was." She stopped moving and wrapped her arms around Cole's waist, pressing her head into his chest as she embraced him. "It's good to feel like I have a home."

After a moment's hesitation, Cole gently placed his arms around her. "I — I want to kiss you again," he mumbled into her hair. "Is that okay?"

Estraven stood on her tiptoes and firmly planted her lips onto his by way of an answer.

"Oh," he said when they separated, and she laughed as she reached for his hands again, curling her fingers between his.

"I love you, you know," she said, and her chest felt tight. Had she told him that since before she left for Adamant Fortress? She couldn't even remember. "I love you even more now than when I said it the first time. And I _really_ love when you kiss me." She squeezed his hand. "But I think it's sweet how you always ask."

Cole closed his eyes for a moment, his brows knitting together gently. "In the tavern you said you wanted me to love you because I wanted to love you, not because I thought it would make you happy," he said slowly, looking down at their entwined fingers. "I think… I do. Love you, that is. Because I want to."

Estraven restrained herself from tackling him to the floor and gripping him in the tightest bear hug Thedas had ever seen, and instead threw her arms around his neck and embraced him like a slightly more normal person. He laughed, quiet and soft, and held her against him tightly. "Wanting is… strange," he admitted, and it was something she was certain he'd said before. "Does it make me selfish?"

"Creators, no," she said with a shake of her head. "I feel like loving people is generous, if anything. Right? You're devoting your time and energy and feelings to other people. It's not selfish."

"You love everyone in the Inquisition. They love you, too. Am I… am I taking part of you away from everyone else?" Cole asked, looking at her with fear under the surface of his blue eyes. Her heart ached.

She shook her head again and reached up a hand to stroke his cheek. "No. You don't just have to love one person. Even romantically, I think," Estraven said. "Love… it's not a limited, finite resource, you know? I don't stop caring about everyone else in the Inquisition just because I feel this way about you. Just like I know you didn't stop loving the others because you feel this way about me, either." Her thumb moved across his cheek and she smiled. "Because you're the most generous, caring person I've met. You have a big heart. I don't need to be the only one in it."

Cole's hand covered hers, and he sighed happily and let his eyes flutter closed once more. "Why do I want to kiss you all the time?"

"Because it's fun, I hope."

"I don't think I want to kiss the others. Not right now, anyway."

Estraven laughed. "You don't have to!"

One of Cole's eyes cracked open as he looked down at her. "Do you want me to do the things The Iron Bull did to you? Because I'm not sure if I —"

 _"Fenedhis!"_ she gasped, her cheeks flushing instantly with embarrassment because _Creators, Cole, public places!_ , and she was about to tell him off when she noticed the tiny, impish grin on his lips. "You — you know _exactly_ what you're doing!" she laughed, swatting at his shoulder lightly. "And after I just told you how considerate and sweet you are, jerk!"

Cole laughed and pressed another kiss into her black hair before moving his mouth beside her ear. "I like when you blush," he whispered, and the heat on her face could have rivaled one of Dorian's fireballs.

"You're not allowed to be suave when you're wearing a hat with an entire garden on top of it," she grumbled, covering her cheeks with her hands. "It's just not fair for you to look that silly and sound that… not silly."

"My hat isn't silly," Cole said, pouting.

"It's silly and I love it. Is that better?"

He was about to debate this further when from inside the palace, a bell tolled, likely signaling the end of the evening. Estraven sighed with relief and instantly reached up to take the elaborate, jeweled pin out of her hair, causing the thick black mass to come tumbling down around her face and shoulders. "Finally. C'mon, let's go home," she said with another beaming smile, taking his hand again. "This dress is nice, but I miss having pants."

"Your Skyhold pants are silly," Cole said.

"My Skyhold pants are _not_ silly!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for updates being slow/irregular - I've been trying to focus more on my original writing since, as much as I wish I was, I'm obviously not making any money to support myself from writing fanfic. I've gotta be able to afford new Dragon Age DLC somehow!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, or quietly leaving kudos, you're all wonderful <3
> 
> (Sorry, Estraven... the Skyhold pants are silly.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his assassination attempt stopped, Corypheus is forced to back off. The calm before the final push against him lets Estraven and Cole spend more time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the long wait for a kind of short chapter ;_; but here you go anyway!
> 
> Important thing! **This chapter has sex in it!** It's not very explicit but talking about sex is kind of the point of the chapter, so if that bothers you, you may want to skip this one. But I hope you enjoy it!

The witch Morrigan accompanied the Inquisition back to Skyhold, their numbers had grown even more after the events at Halamshiral, and something about all this felt like the final push forward. Corypheus was cornered and desperate, and from the sounds of it, really pissed off that a little elf had been consistently foiling his plans.

Estraven felt like she could breathe. She knew this was likely the calm before an ungodly, terrifying storm, but for now she was content to take everything one day at a time. This also had the pleasant side effect of letting her and Cole spend more time together doing things other than closing rifts.

She had wanted their first time doing one such activity - having sex, obviously - to be perfect. Candles lit in her Skyhold bedroom, baths with scented oils, backrubs for both of them. But the candles proved to be a fire hazard when, in the heat of the moment, Estraven had tossed Cole’s hat off to the side and directly on top of one. The baths seemed great until they emerged to find had Sera stolen their clothes and draped them over a chandelier in the middle of the throne room. And it turned out Cole was so good at giving backrubs that Estraven didn’t even know she had fallen asleep until she woke up the next morning.

These things do not always turn out the way one imagines them, even with careful planning involved.

“Are you sure… here is a good idea?” Estraven whispered. ‘Here’ being in their cramped tent uncomfortably close to a Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains, with Solas and Bull snoring in their tents on either side.

“No,” Cole whispered, blinking down at her. His hands were already halfway up her shirt, and hers were already reaching for his pants. They paused to consider.

“Ah, fuck it,” the elf grumbled, pulling him into a hasty kiss and smiling against his lips. His hands continued up her shirt, his fingertips brushing against her ribs and tracing the various scars she had. It was something he always did - the first time he’d seen her topless, she apologized for the scars, and he’d run his fingers over them and told her he liked the texture, how the raised scar tissue felt different to the rest of her skin. She’d fallen even more in love with him then.

All of this was still new territory for them both. Estraven had fooled around with Iron Bull a few times before, but being with Cole involved almost a hundred percent less rope and absolutely zero filthy Qunlat expletives. But learning was exciting, and they were nothing if not enthusiastic about it.

Cole’s teeth bumped against hers as they went in for another awkward kiss, and the pair restrained laughter as their foreheads touched in the darkness of the tent. His hands made their way up to Estraven’s chest, his calloused thumbs running over her nipples and prompting a small gasp from the elf.

“Good?” he asked quietly, his blue eyes looking at her with such earnestness it made Estraven’s chest ache.

She nodded. “Yeah. You, um — you don’t have to be that gentle,” she whispered, and Cole responded by hesitantly squeezing her breast in his hand. “Th— _ahhh._ Yes. That’s g— I’m going to shut up now.”

The shem practically beamed with pride and nuzzled his head against her neck, planting soft kisses against her skin. Estraven tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt, and he sat up to pull it off over his head before —

An arrow neatly pierced the tent, whizzing past their heads through the cloth to embed itself in the dirt outside.

“Are you fucking serious?!” Estraven screeched, flailing and rolling sideways out of the tent, already gathering balls of lightning in her fists. Bull stumbled out of his own tent, canvas flap caught on one of his horns, and looked at Cole struggling to put his shirt back on.

“Oh shit, the Venatori picked a hell of a time to come after you, boss!” he laughed, hoisting his battleaxe up over his shoulder. “Cole, let us get this one!”

“I—I’ll be right there! I’m coming!” Cole shouted from within the cotton mess of his shirt.

“Not tonight, you’re not!” Bull said as he and Estraven charged off to fight.

### 

Estraven triple checked the lock on her bedroom door. And for good measure, moved her desk to block it. Any interruptions would have to take place over her dead, unsatisfied body, and she was okay with that.

Cole kissed her behind one of her ears gently, making goosebumps rise up all over her arms. “You worry too much.”

“I worry,” she said, “exactly the right amount.”

“No. You’re not just worried about being interrupted,” he said, taking her hands in his and leading her to sit next to him on her bed. “You’re worried about me.”

Estraven flopped backwards onto her bed, black hair spilling out over the sheets. “I’d be a bad partner if I wasn’t, right? I mean… this is all really new for you. I just want to make sure you’re… having fun.”

Cole smiled, toeing his shoes off before bringing his legs up onto the bed, resting his chin on his knees. “I am. I do. Have fun, I mean. But it’s more fun when you’re not so nervous.” He tilted his head and looked down at her. “I want you to trust me when I tell you I want this. That’s important.”

She nodded slowly. “I — okay. I get so worried about you, I’m sorry. I’m scared like — like maybe you don’t want to be doing any of this at all and you’re just doing it because I want you to, you know? Sometimes it’s frustrating that you can tell exactly how I feel but I can’t do the same for you.” Estraven squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Wow, this is not how I envisioned foreplay going.”

“You can tell exactly how I feel,” Cole said seriously, taking one of her hands in his. She opened one eye to look at him. “I’m telling you how I feel, Estraven. You just have to believe me. Trust me.” He kissed the back of her hand lightly. “I won’t lie to you.”

Her chest swelled again. She knew it was the truth. “You’re right.” She sat up across from him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone before. The least I can do is believe in your feelings.”

“Good. Can we have sex now?” Cole asked, and Estraven choked on her own spit before hurriedly coughing out a ‘yes’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for a short chapter. I love this fic and I definitely won't just abandon it, but writing other things is my source of income, so it's hard to justify devoting time and energy to fanfiction - hence the slow updates. Thank you so much for continuing to read this and for leaving comments and kudos, I read every one and they always make my day!


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